Adult Beverages, Part II –-
I wanted to continue the experiment from last week, basically pitting Ps 104 against D&C 89 to see which one would win out. I was on my own last night, as Wife of Bath was out of town and my son was at work. I sat down with dinner in front of “The Gospel of Judas” on the National Geographic channel and a couple of glasses of wine. I’m obviously not in practice with this drinking thing, because I got a little fuzzier than I was expecting, and it lasted longer than I remembered. I’m not sure I felt that much more relaxed. Just fuzzier, although I was trying to pay attention to biblical scholars and archaeologists tell the story of a 2000 year-old manuscript, which is hardly a “good times” experience.
My son came home from work two hours earlier than expected, and I was in trouble. He wanted to go out and throw the lacrosse ball around, and I could hold it together in conversation, but there was no way I could play lacrosse. It requires a lot of coordination to throw and catch with a lacrosse stick, and I had had a little too much wine for that.
We went out to the back yard, and it was pretty humble. I couldn’t catch a thing. Once the ball hit me in the chest and I stumbled trying to pick it up. My son looked at me and said, “Dad? Are you OK?” He’s used to people drinking from his restaurant experience, and he asked me if I had been drinking, and I had to admit I had. He was very disturbed, and he went into the house and called the bishop . . .
OK, that’s the Ensign version, where I am caught in my transgression, am called to repentance by a member of my family, caused to confess to the bishop, and thus begins my return to the strait and narrow path.
What actually happened is that I had no problem playing catch. I’m not sure how, because I couldn’t think fast enough to actually throw and catch, but the stick somehow ended up in the right place, even when his throws were off and I was stretching to make the catch. Some subconscious part of my brain was able to make it work, even though the conscious part was a little dizzy.
After we got done playing catch he put some music on, shoveled a path through his room so I could get to the bed, and we listened to music together for awhile and joked around. A very companionable evening.
So, for whatever reason the Ensign version didn’t happen, and I wasn’t called to repentance for my transgression. In fact I felt kind of sustained and confirmed.
I’m not sure I’m going to repeat this experience for awhile. Drinking seemed more relaxing when I was in my 20s, probably because I wasn’t trying to hide it. Sort of like eating pepperoni pizza also. In my 40s, I have much more of a sensation of a foreign substance in my system that the body is not happy with.
Probably drinking is more of an accessory to relaxed, intimate conversation and listening to music rather than watching documentaries and trying to play sports.
This morning I have a headache, too. I wonder where that could have come from . . .