The thing about knock-down, drag-out fights is their potential to spur action, which is why I’ve never worried too much about our wild & crazy screaming matches after the fact. After all, the worst fight we ever had led to the idea of Date Night, so it was obviously a productive airing-out of things that needed to be said.

Our most recent fight was two weekends ago, and precipitated by my purchase of a $17 top hat from Halloween Adventure for use at an upcoming party. Michael commented that I should be a little bit more careful with the use of my money, and I blew up at him.

We had recently been drinking. Our friends Charlotte & Josh had just had us over to Josh’s East Village apartment, where we hung out on the back patio with wine, goat cheese, brie, and bread. I believe we went through three bottles of wine. But that wasn’t the only reason emotions were so high.

Nope. The thing that had gotten me so upset was the fact that, at the beginning of the summer, I had transferred all my credit card debt to cards with a 0% interest rate, been steadily paying them down with a regular amount, and had actually stopped using credit cards entirely. It was a major, drastic step for me, and something I was proud of. I was on track to be debt-free in one year’s time. Then the New York Sun had folded, and I became terrified that all the ground I’d covered would be taken away. I was scared, depressed, and stressed out of my mind. And pissed as hell that my husband would dare to begrudge me my good time at a party I was really looking forward to.

We drove home in silence, he threatened to leave, I insisted he do so, I threw a laundry basket at him, etc. etc. In the end, we both realized — for the first time — how scared the other was by our financial situation. It was a revelation.

All of this is meant to explain my distraction lately, and my general state of mind.

On the flip side, being (mostly) unemployed has certainly left time for more extracurricular activities.

Matt’s wedding was just the first of the month (and also my favorite, obvs). Virginia was gorgeous, the weather was gorgeous, the wedding was gorgeous, and seeing the ol’ Boston posse was positively rejuvenating. I’ve always felt that I was the absolute best version of myself when living in Boston, and seeing everyone from that time makes me feel like the old me (minus the late nights and all the pizza).

The next weekend was Kevin’s wedding (Kevin’s an old band mate of Michael’s) and our trip to Josh’s apartment.

And this weekend was the most crazy-making of all.

On Friday evening, we drove into Jersey City, to Grace Church Van Vorst, to see Tris McCall play.

Tris is like a cross between Jarvis Cocker and that guys from Austria that I was totally in love with. I love his church shows (despite hating the drive into Jersey City) because I love his ballads, and the chance to hear his voice without all that other noise.

I also love Tris because he’s wildly friendly, and unassuming, and so obviously having fun with his music. When you walk into one of his shows, he’ll greet you by name, despite having only met you twice before in the past two or three years. And then there will be homemade cookies and wine on a folding table. And listening to his show will be like gathering around the piano in someone’s dining room. Intimate. Chummy. Warm.

And then you’ll realize that driving into Jersey City was worth it.

The next day, I drove down to New Hope to do lunch and a bit of shopping with Mariana. Which basically involved me dragging Mariana into every single vintage clothing store and not finding the type of jacket I was looking for. As I usually drool over the handmade crafts and home goods in New Hope, I discovered some shops I had never been to before…a fetishwear shop up a side street, with gorgeous dresses…a designer clothing store where I almost bought a gorgeous red, $400 coat before coming back to the reality that is my life.

On Sunday, Michael and I drove up to Warwick, NY to go apple picking with Charlotte, Josh, Nicole, and Mike.

Don’t ask me where Nicole & Mike are in my photos. I have no flippin’ clue. Well, there’s that blurry one with Mike in the background. The only photo I had of Nicole was too blurry to post. ::sigh::

Anyways. Here we are at Pennings Orchard, where we picked two bags-worth of apples and eventually split them three ways. Then we grabbed lunch in downtown Warwick, and did a disappointing tasting at a nearby winery (everything smelled of rubbing alcohol!).

I spent Sunday night trying to meet a Monday mag article deadline. Because I am nothing if not consistent in my procrastination tendencies.

Monday was the party at the Box, thrown by Nerve and Hendrick’s Gin. Michael went Rat Pack-style, and I went for Romantic, suburban cheap-style. I wore black pants and black boots I already owned, and a ruffle-front white blouse, black vest, and black flouncy blazer I picked up at Kohl’s. I topped it all off with my top hat, red, red lipstick, and sparkle. Upon entering the venue, I wondered how many trillions of dollars people had spent on their outfits. It was seriously like going back in time, and I actually really enjoyed how dapper everyone looked. I was also impressed by how all-out Nerve went. There was face painting, a girl on stilts, a contortionist, stage shows, etc. I only regret that I was too short to make out much of the giant vagina writhing about the stage, bringing herself to orgasm. Some pics:

This is (Nerve) Nicole. She basically runs the Nerve offices and makes sure things don’t fall apart. She looked way glamorous.

Me and Michael. I loved the way Michael looked all suited up, and I’ve always loved fedoras. As for myself, I alternately felt like a circus ringmaster and a pirate.

There’s Michael with Wendy‘s Drew. How awesome is that outfit!? And why don’t I have a decent photo of Wendy!? You’ll just need to check out her blog for more photos. And this post.

Michael most likely staring at a dancer’s crotch.

Dude. Lookit those sexy stockings. Dressing up is fun!

This is the very first thing we saw upon entering the Box: A dancer striking poses on a hula hoop suspended from the ceiling. I obviously need to add this to my hooping repertoire. Some more pics of the hoop dancer:

Ah, the crotch that so grabbed Michael’s attention.

And that’s all for now folks. Looking forward to a not-too-crazy weekend.


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