The Weekend, Work Wear, And We’re Not The Party Animals We Used To Be

It’s been a long week. There were a couple days at work where we struggled to be busy for even half the day. Now I’m not opposed to slacking off for a day and getting paid to sit at my desk, read up on world news online, and wait for someone to ring the door buzzer. But you(I) can only pretend to be busy for so long before time begins to slow – the clock ticking as if telling time in a black hole – and a single day seems to last a lifetime. Those days, to be quite honest, are worse than busy days. At least on busy days time flies by.

Oh well, that’s my problem not yours.

My wife has her big fundraiser of the year for her work this weekend, so she’ll be pretty busy Saturday. She works for a non-profit that raise money to help keep the local lakes and streams clean. At least the lakes and streams in our watershed, which includes quite a few lakes. They promote environmentally friendly farming practices, do water testing for E-Coli and other bacteria, and lead projects to keep the waters safe in general. She’s been there for almost six years now, and while it’s been pretty chaotic and frustrating at times she loves her work. She’s the office manager, so she’s the one that keeps the trains running on time; heading projects, contacting potential donors and board members, and she keeps her boss on track.

Every year they have two or three big fundraisers which go to make their budget for the following year. Since 2018 their biggest has been a dance they hold at the nearby Tippy Dance Hall. The dance hall is located on Tippecanoe Lake, and has been a staple of the area since my own parents were in their late teens/early 20s(the 60s.) Early on the entertainment was cover bands that covered everything from the 50s to the 2000s. But then a wealthy local businessman hooked up with the organization and paid to have moldy oldie acts come and play, which proved to be a huge success. 2021 saw The Young Rascals(one remaining original member) come and play, while last year it was Grand Funk Railroad with one original member, Don Brewer(and former Kiss guitarist Bruce Kulick.)

Both of those shows were huge successes thanks to the undying love of classic and oldie rock lovers in the area. Between board members buying whole tables for dinner and show, while locals buying up concert-only tickets showing up 7 or 8 beers in and ready to dance along to “Good Lovin'” and “We’re An American Band”, the Tippy Dance Hall was jammed to capacity and the fundraiser was a huge success.

This year that local business owner isn’t involved, and I think my wife and the non-profit felt a bit of relief. While he dropped a chunk of change for “big” acts and the money made was very good for my wife’s organization, it had its negatives, too. This year they have a national cover band that pulls off everything, and with a big band including strings and horns and maybe even a kazoo. They didn’t sell as many tickets or tables this year, but it sounds like it’ll be a pretty big success regardless.

While my wife’s raising funds Saturday night I’ll be hanging out watching a movie or two. Maybe indulge in an IPA, and enjoy some chicken tacos. That’s what I’ll do. Spinning records is always an option as well. Anymore I’m good with doing not much at all. The week takes it out of me. Between ebbing and flowing between pulling out the metaphorical hair I don’t have because we’re too busy, to hitting up Reverb for the 12th time in the day searching Gibson SG Standards, the weekend is a vital supplement to keep my from losing my mind.

We’ve got our son’s open house a week from tomorrow. I and my wife aren’t really looking forward to it, but if it means he’ll get some scratch to pad his savings account with then I guess we’ll do it. His older sisters got open houses, so why not him? We discussed our aversion to hosting gatherings with my pal that visited last weekend and it’s just that we’re not all that social. I can put out a spread and feed people, but it’s the incessant small talk that nearly drowns me in awkwardness. The rigid, faux laughs and “yeah, that’s what I’ve been up to for the last 30 years” chit chat that takes it out of me. It’s not like these things are for the people we see on the regular. These are for the distant relatives, family friends, and the kid himself to get some dough. My job is to put food out and smile through gritted teeth for 2 hours until it’s over.

My best friend had a 60th birthday party for his wife back in April. Walking into his house I saw that same, strained look of anguish and panic that I’m sure he’ll see on my face next weekend. Maybe it’s our age? I mean, when we first moved into the house we used to have all kinds of gatherings and parties. Probably the biggest was the summer of ’99. We hosted a Fourth Of July party, complete with coolers of beer, grilled meats, and two garbage cans full of Hairy Buffalo. That same best friend was there and helped put the Hairy Buffalo together.

It was a wild and honestly fun night. But I was only 25-years old and had no children. We could be as Animal House-like as we wanted. And it was crazy. Hell, even my parents were over partaking. Lots of friend-adjacent folks came over, too. At one point my best friend mooned us all as we sat on the back porch. It was a bare ass sort of gathering.

But now? Three IPAs, some shitty horror movies on Tubi, and some chicken tacos are as wild as I want to get. Maybe a bowl of Blue Moon ice cream to top it off before bed.

Delta Tau Chi we are not.

Enjoy your weekend, ya filthy animals.