Wine Drunk by 9:00

I met a good friend at Ipanema to catch up after several months of not seeing each other, except the random run-in at a show. And don't tell my mother, but I had blueberry pie a la mode for dinner instead of a proper meal (but it was damn fine blueberry pie with a brown sugar crumble on top), although we did share some cornmeal-crusted fried oyster and button mushrooms beforehand.

It didn't take long for him to remind me yet again that I am a Luddite for not having a cell phone or PDA (despite him freely admiting being addicted to his crackberry). As my friend said upon returning from the men's room, "See, if you had a phone you could have been checking your Twitter feed while I was gone." Instead, while he was off taking care of business, one of the two guys at the end of the bar had invited me to come share their feast; they'd ordered six dishes for the two of them, so I'm not sure how much was wanting my sparkling company and how much just seeking eating assistance.

Having both recently done the Robinson Street ramble after avoiding it for years , we compared notes on which of its bar crowds provide the most amusement for our viewing pleasure. He nominated Racine for best happy hour given its end time of 9:00 (even so, it's still impossible to beat a $2 glass of wine at Ipanema). He wanted me to help him understand the decor at Commercial Taphouse; clearly he doesn't remember the Early Rec Room period of the 70s or he wouldn't have to ask such a silly question.

Best lament of the night from said friend: "Wine drunk by 9:00 and ready for bed. God, I'm turning into my mother."

Coming home a few minutes ago, I heard my phone ringing and rushed up the stairs to grab it (no land line lectures, please). Whoever it was must have just wanted to hear my voice (a comment I've heard twice this week already), because they didn't say anything despite obviously being on the line.

Glancing at the clock as I put down the phone, it occurred to me that it's after 1, I'm just now getting in and someone has just called me. And then there's that matter of pie for dinner. God, I'm not turning into anything like my mother, that's for sure.