What does it mean when you are a 35-year-old mother of three, hosting a perfectly lovely neighborhood Bunco party and an old friend calls you to tell you she's at a concert and someone is talking about a bar you used to frequent and it reminded her of you?
To be precise, my phone rang, I didn't recognize the number, but knew from the area code it was from Oklahoma. I said to my guests in a politely confused voice, "Excuse me, this is someone from Oklahoma, which is where my family is, so I probably need to get this." Yeah, not so much.
I think I know who it was, but since she was at a concert, I couldn't hear her voice too well. I just can't imagine who else it was. She was yelling (and all of my Bunco guests could hear her), "I'm at the George Strait concert and the girl next to me wants to go to the Wormy Dog and I thought of you!" If it's the friend I think it was, we spent quite a bit of time on at the Wormy Dog. In fact, I spent so much time there that, when I walked in, whoever was behind the bar would slam a Bud Light down on the bar before I could even order. And once, when my dad came to town to see me and I wasn't at home, he went to the Wormy Dog to find me. Apparently, the guy working the bar told Dad, "Oh, she doesn't usually come until later." (I'm sure Dad was so proud of his baby girl at that moment.)
I did love the Wormy Dog. It was a hot, dirty little upstairs bar with saddles for barstools and peanuts all over the floor. I would go on a Wednesday night for penny beer or on a Saturday afternoon in cutoffs to play pool. I never went by myself, but even if I had, I wouldn't have been alone once I got there. It was like the country version of Cheers to me. Sadly, I guess I was Norm. Only not as fat. Not then, anyway.
So what does this mean? I hope it means that I'm a nice, respectable wife and mother who used to really like to have a good time. I choose to believe it just means that the words "Wormy Dog" remind my friend of all the fun we had there instead of thinking that I could very well have been a trashy barfly. Of course, even if I was a trashy barfly in college, that was over 10 years ago. I'm certainly not like that now. I don't even go to bars anymore. Ok, so I still like to have a good time. But I don't get bucked off of a barstool anymore and I don't wake up with peanut shells in my bra. I don't drink on Monday nights anymore. And I haven't done drunken karaoke in a really long time. Oh wait, ok, yeah, we did do that on Christmas a few years ago. But that was with family.
Um, ok, I'm really digging myself a hole here, huh? I guess I have now figured out the answer to my original question. I think it means I need to learn to knit or do needlepoint, cleanse my soul, spend more time in church, and don't answer the phone after 10:00 anymore.