I keep getting caught. Caught yawning. Shifting in my chair. Not by one person. Not by two, or even three or four. But by countless people.

Should I blame the weather? It’s been cold, wet and dark outside. Should I blame the alarm that routinely rings at 5:30am or even earlier? I set it after all, to go to perfectly decent days of work. What about my little guy who keeps tip-toeing in at 2am to ask to be tucked back into the covers that he kicks off? The poor kid’s cold, and he needs help. (But seriously, the kid has got to learn how to pull the damn covers up already.)

No, really, I take responsibility for my own glassy eyes and dark circles. Because night after night I stay up way too late, long after I should go to bed. Granted, I can be productive at times. One night a few weeks ago was turkey stock, started at the foolish time of 5 o’clock, so that it was midnight by the time it was cool enough to freeze in pre-portioned Ziploc bags. Another night was sorting and backing up all of the photos from the last couple of months. Especially important, since I just managed to completely lose three weeks of pictures this month. All my “before” kitchen shots would have been fun to share, but the bigger disappointment was erasing my husband’s birthday pictures. (Remember I told you my computer and technology skills were at least a decade behind when I started this project? Well, I’m learning, but I still managed to royally screw this one up. And no, they can’t be recovered. They’re gone. Yay me!) Then there was staying up at the kitchen table with my brother who lives 6000 miles away,  or spending hours trying to figure out how to interpret jury instructions,  also reading through a stack of new books I got at the library, and laundry. Endless laundry.

But there was one night a couple weeks ago that I got sucked into the internet, as I researched Indonesian drink recipes for our cooking club gathering that happened last week. I’ve had Malaysian food, Singaporean food, Thai, and Vietnamese, but I don’t think I’d ever had an Indonesian meal,  so I certainly had no idea what a traditional drink would be. But as you all know, the internet can be a beautiful thing. And it can also suck your brain…. That night, it was a bit of both…. 

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June Cleaver? Betty Draper? Carol Brady? Any housewife from generations past that’s waiting at home at 6pm in full makeup and heels for her husband to come through the door, ready to mix his favorite cocktail?

I’m so not these women. I typically walk through my own door close to that time, trying to balance my work bag, my little guy’s lunch box,  sweaters, my coffee mug from the morning, and the giant stack of mail, all while trying to get the key in the lock and the alarm off while reciting for the millionth time, “Please go right upstairs, use the bathroom and wash your hands. With soap. Now. Don’t make me start counting. One, two, three, four….” Tired and hungry, my makeup-less face attempts to hold it together. My shoes are kicked off and left in the pile of footwear covering our foyer floor, and I head straight to my room for pajamas. Pretty dress and heels to greet Brian as he returns home? More like an oversized grey t-shirt that says “Stanford Special Olympics ’95“ paired with pink and yellow striped drawstring pants. I’m so fancy, right? (Just writing that makes me think of one of the funniest songs I have ever heard: “Business Time.” I just re-watched the video, and I dare you not to laugh.)

So on Monday night, when I offered Brian a cocktail as he walked in the door, he looked at me confused. “A cocktail? Now???” I should probably mention that we’re not big drinkers, and I can’t think of a time that we have ever come home from work and just had a drink. Yes, I love having wine with dinner, or with girlfriends on a Friday night, but it’s not really Brian’s thing. And sadly, an open bottle of wine is going to sit around for weeks unless I throw it into something I’m cooking. And mixed drinks have always been for restaurants and vacation in my mind. (I know, such foolishness!)

But on Monday night I was trying to create a cocktail for our Caribbean themed cooking club that was happening the next evening, and I was taking my task very seriously. I was actually an “alternate” on the assigned rotation, so I was covering for the member on beverages. She had a business trip, and generously offered to supply the wine, so I only had to bring a fun drink. But if you ever look up Caribbean cocktail ideas, you’ll know the options are endless, which doesn’t help someone who has a hard time making decisions…. 

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