Lately I’ve been brewing up a cup o’ chai tea (instead of paying $4 for it at Starbucks) and using the time to think about what’s going on.  As nap mat season winds down, and so does my patience, I’m fnding those few moments of downtime per day very necessary. 

I went out and stayed out way too late last night.  I went to what’s becoming traditional among a few of the #hashbrownnetworkers - going to see Richmond Varietease’s Burlesque show at Canal Club.  A few of us met up before for dinner, and a larger group met at the club to see the show.  I think I may be in love with Ms. Magnolia Pickett Burnside, the 6’ + drag queen who hosts the shows.  It’s especially endearing that her entire extended family shows up, including her mother and grandmother.  Talk about familial support!  They also had this Mab, Just Mab woman - she freaked me out.  She isn’t a burlesque dancer, but she’s sort of a circus sideshow-y kind of person First she blew up a totally-not-kidding 6 foot balloon, and swallowed it whole (a lot of sexual innuendo right there).  In the second act, she showed a 6” hairpin up her nostril and, as she shouted, “into the center of my brain!”. Then she had some unsuspecting dude pull it out. For her final act, friends and fellow goofballs @TheCheckoutGirl and @WxDan ended up as her helpers during her “bed of nails” display.  Dan first stood on her chest while she lay on the bed of nails.  Then TCG put a concrete block on her stomach and Dan broke it into bits with a hammer.  They got to keep pieces of the concrete block as memorials.  It was pretty cool.  Another RVA twitterer, @laptopmnky, won the best dance of the evening award.  I’ve never seen a white boy break out like he did.  There was the Running Man dance, some moonwalkish steps, and a lot of soul.  He deserved to win.  Hopefully he’ll even wear the pasties he got. 

We all had a good time.  I embarrassed myself a few times, notably when I asked, “Oh, is this bar new?” and was informed that no, actually, it had been there at least 4 years.  Did I mention I don’t get out much?  I woke up at 4 AM with a crap stomach - the combo french toast/drinking was not a good one on the old intestines. 

Which brings me to the comment I just made to Mike, something along the lines of “Do you really not mind me going out without you occasionally?”  He assures me that No, He Really Does Not Mind.  Mike’s not really a social person.  He’d be perfectly happy if he had his immediate family, an endless supply of beer, and access to the Dallas Cowboys and Philadelphia Flyers.  I sometimes feel badly because for me, getting out and doing things that don’t revolve around my children gives me a lot more patience and I genuinely enjoy them more when I come home.  Then I worry that I am not spending enough time making sure Mike and I do enough together.  A lot of our common interests are difficult because they require us to hire a babysitter, which costs money we are trying not to spend.  We used to go out in Richmond constantly – any time a new restaurant opened, we tried it.  We used to like doing yardwork and landscaping together, but now generally one of us has to be in the house to make sure Arden or Lily isn’t killing the other sister.  We love skiing, but seriously, it’s so expensive.  And the skiing in Virginia is not all that. 

I just need to get over feeling like a bad mother and wife because I have different interests than my husband.  For him, the idea of hanging out with a group of people who talk about php and tweets and marketing and writing is about as appealing as a Lifetime Movie Marathon, but for me, it’s a lot of fun. 

A quick note about the HashBrowners:  @jasonkenney was intereviewed by Richmond.com for starting the phenomenon.  He seemed nonplussed by it, but I was psyched for him.  He should get some credit for single-handedly making one waitress at the Waffle House a very rich woman.  They are insanely busy during HBN events.  HBN has been great for me, selfishly, because a.) I usually get to have dinner with The Checkout Girl before the networking commences, and it’s great for girl talk and b.) it’s sort of like going home for me.  I feel comfortable in that group, whereas I’ll freely admit that sometimes my suburban life feels as comfortable as an extremely tight straightjacket.  It’s a once-a-week permission slip to just be myself without worrying about who thinks what, and that is well worth the price of some tea and hash browns.