On my way out of work yesterday, I accepted an invitation from a DA whom I’m pretty good friends with to go with him to Taps Brewery in Brea and hang out w/him and some Whittier Sheriffs. “Sure, I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on,” I said. This DA and I had been saying for awhile now that we need to hang out and catch up, but haven’t had the opportunity.

We sat in the outdoors patio at Taps and I had a Georgia Peach. Tasted watered down. Anyway, these cops turned out to be the really guys’-guy type of men and being the only female among them, I was once again zapped back to the days of yore when I’d hung out w/my ex and his “boys” at the bar at Friday’s, when I had to put on the aloof, witty, non-offendable chick persona to hang w/them as they sucked down beers and got increasingly more crass.

That’s a rusty hat. I was able to force it upon my head and pull it off, but it’d been awhile since I had to act so open and simultaneously recoil myself so far within. It’s “safe” mode, but it requires active forethought and monitoring of the impression and identity I’m throwing out. Of course I had to balance it out with a private, sincere and “real” conversation with my DA buddy after we left Taps.