It was raining pretty hard, and I really didn't want to go out, but the church men's club was having a spaghetti dinner after the Christmas pageant. Dad went to go help set up. Mom and I waited until after the pageant would be over, and set out. I brought a half-bottle of Chenin Blanc. We're still working on the first bottle I got within the last few months. The second is still on my little cart in the dining room, not touched yet.
The line for the spaghetti was very long. Mostly the people on line were just standing there and talking anyway, and I can still only stand for so long. The tables were pretty full, too. They had served the people with the little kids first, which I suppose wasn't a bad idea. We got there when that contingent was finishing up. I said, "I'm just going to drink until the line dies down," and took the wine with me to a table. I got three cups. Mom had found the table by the time I got back with the cups. We started drinking. Mom brought along a bottle of diet caffeine-free soda, so she'd have something non-alcoholic to drink. I tell her she might as well drink colored and artificially-flavored water, as it seems the same or equivalent to me.
I saw Dad get on the end of the spaghetti line, and waved at him several times. Mom joined in the waving. He eventually saw us after a few minutes of us doing that. I returned to working on my cup of wine. The line finally died down. I got spaghetti and a little of a couple different kinds of salad, and asked Dad to get me a glass of water. I was pleasantly glowing by that point. Yes, it only took a cup of wine. I am a lightweight.
I had only had a little spaghetti the first time, so I went back, but by that time they were putting out desserts. I got seconds. Mom was going to go up for seconds, but I told her they were putting away the spaghetti. I shared my seconds with her, and asked Dad to get me a piece of pecan pie. He brought back a plate with several different kinds of desserts, including a little slice of pie for me.
I said hi to several different church people. I think I might have said hi to a couple of them twice. The ones who have been going to the church for thirty years or so remember seeing me when I was a child. They said I was walking better than I was the last time they saw me. Sometimes I hardly lean on the cane at all now, depending how much support I feel I need. I'm walking some without it in the house. With all the people and chairs there at church, I was using it.
Mom drove home. Dad stayed to help put tables and chairs away. I was very tense, as the last time Mom and I had gone home from the church at night, with me driving, a deer had leaped out into the road, into my lane. Fortunately, I saw it in time. I posted about it, how Mom and I both screamed, and I swerved the car. The deer trotted off, and the only damage was to our nerves. This time we didn't see any, though I was intently watching the side of the road as best I could as we went along, just in case.
I was glad to get home. I made myself go out, because when I don't leave the house for a day or two, my mental state gets bad. We didn't really get to particularly socialize with anyone. I'd much rather have a deep conversation with one or two people. If it had been snowing that hard rather than it being rain, I would have stayed home. At least I got a change of scene this evening, though.
During my shopping at Dreamspinner Press over the last couple of weeks, I somehow ended up buying two copies of J.L. Merrow's Dulce et Decorum Est. The title is a take-off from the poem by Wilfred Owen, who's my favorite poet. Since I'd bought two, I sent one to S. He wrote back a "got it, thank you" tonight. I wasn't too worried. I knew he was very busy studying for finals, but I figured he'd find it sooner or later. I thought it was a good story. I like stories set around the time period, the early twentieth century. One of the protagonists was a veteran of the Great War. I think S. will probably like it, too.