One of my friends from college has decided that we should have a reunion of sorts. It’s a good idea. He’s also decided that I should be in charge of planning it. So here I am, in charge.
Like I said, I think it’s a good idea, but it might be a little weird. I mean, most of us haven’t seen each other in at least 7 years. Longer for others. I skipped my high school reunion because there really wasn’t anyone worth seeing, but I actually do want to see everyone from college.
It’s funny, I have this tendency to sometimes just disappear when my life takes a new direction, but I also get nostalgic. Those two things fight each other.
We’ll see if this thing actually comes together…
The bachelor/bachelorette party went pretty well for all persons involved. We had Japanese at a cute little place in the city (emphasis on the little), Zento. Everything was presented beautifully. And it was good, too! Then salsa lessons at a place just down the block. Shockingly, out of 11 of us who went dancing, I was one of the three who finished the lesson. I was not as bad at it as I thought I was going to be.
Plus, I talked to people. And it seemed unforced. So thank god for that.
There are a few photos, but I doubt that most will see the light of day. Nothing bad, just a little off-kilter.
Sunday was a little rough around the edges for everyone, and it took some time Monday to get back in the swing but it wasn’t so bad, and it was totally worth it.
This weekend is a big weekend of adult fun: Bachelor and Bachelorette activities for Geoff and Val. (The child gets to spend the weekend at Grandma’s.) I’m feeling pretty good about it. I know Bren is excited. Part of me is always a little nervous when it comes to social events. Plus, I feel like such an old lady.
It will be fun to get all girlied-up and fancy with Val and whoever else happens to be at her house at the time. I just have to be mindful that I can’t hang like I used to. Not drinking for like two years while pregnant and nursing really hampered my tolerance (which was low-ish to begin with).
I have a feeling that it will be similar to the man-shower for my husband.
So lately I’ve just been writing about Bridget (as you can see by the size of the tag in the tag cloud) and that was never really my intention with this thing. I’ve been sort of holding back and so I’m going to take this moment to try not to do that as much.
Harder than I thought.
I feel as though I keep putting myself out there and really making an effort to make some local BFFs. And I feel like I am just repeatedly getting beat back. Not always, but it’s enough to be discouraging. I’ve got a girlfriend or two (yay!), but they aren’t in the neighborhood (or even the state) so that makes it hard. And there are some that are best summed up by these lines from The Holiday (yes, I watched it; no, it’s not as lame as you might think):
Because you’re hoping you’re wrong. And every time she does something that tells you she’s no good, you ignore it. And every time she comes through and surprises you, she wins you over, and you lose that argument with yourself — that she’s not for you.
It doesn’t help that I keep taking minor things — that are just random events — very personally. It’s annoying. I can see it happening , but I can’t quite stop it. I’m trying to just let it all wave over me. To feel annoyed or hurt and then just let it go, but it keeps pulling back and crashing again. Like the damn ocean.
I wonder if I just have too many expectations. Or that I just hold onto the bad stuff a little more than the good stuff, because there is a lot of good stuff.
I keep thinking back to when things were pretty good — or at least to when I consider them good. Particularly, I’m thinking back to my YMCA Leader’s Club days. Of course, I’m not trying to recreate that sort of atmosphere as an adult, but I have been trying to recall the kind of person I was then. I think I might be able to reclaim some of that.
So I’ll just have to forge ahead and just DO and not OVERTHINK. Every so often I have to remember not to spend too much time thinking about all the things that might happen and just act.
Today was unbelievably nice. It really feels like spring at the moment. The heat is off. The windows are open. Hopefully it will stay warm enough to leave them open all night.
I’ve got the house to myself this weekend. Brendan, Geoff, Vince and Keith er, The Muskoxen are going to Atlantic City. They like to call it The Man Shower, even though they are all invited to the actual co-ed baby shower in April. I don’t quite get it, but I don’t think that I’m supposed to.
I don’t really know what I’m going to do with myself this weekend. It will likely be as exciting as this post.
We didn’t get quite as much snow as some other places a little farther north; we got maybe six inches. Digging out here isn’t so bad, there’s just a little driveway and sidewalk to take care of. Sometime soon, we’ll only have one car to clean off. The garage still has to be organized.
The last time I shoveled a car out was probably college. Chris and I were in our apartment and I was still driving the van, so it must have been junior year. There was a bunch of snow — 8 or 10 inches maybe. Of course, we didn’t have a shovel and for some reason I had to get my car out. The guys that lived next door had dug their cars out, so I went over there to ask if they had a shovel. The guy says no, but let me get you what I used. And he brought me back a hubcap. Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to work. He was a nice guy though and since he was going to do laundry, he bought us a shovel. (I think it’s the one that we currently have. I think. I could be wrong.)
The other thing I loved the most about that year was how creative people were about protecting their parking spots. If they had parked on the street and spent the time shoveling out their space, before they left, they’d put something in its place to hold it until they got back. Farther down the street where there were rowhouses, the rules were clearer but still people would put lawn chairs in their spot. Near our apartment people put out ironing boards and art easels.
Now, Brendan is totally jealous of the guy across the street — he has a snowblower. Of course, this is only the second time this year he’s had to shovel anything. Hopefully there won’t be too many more.
There’s a lot going on at the moment.
We just moved; I’m still teaching (but only for this week); I have a big meeting next Thursday and so on…
Not only do we not have a satellite (or cable) at the new house, we also don’t have an internet connection just yet. I’m so out of touch. I was catching up on deleting the spam I get at my hotmail account, when I saw I had an email announcing that R. had sent me a message at Classmates. R, my high school boyfriend who I didn’t really like all that much but was still upset when he went off and slept with someone else (presumably because I wouldn’t). Whatever. He was a jerk. So he sends me this, hi we haven’t talked since your senior year (he was a year older) 🙁 send me an email, message. I’m sitting here thinking, yeah, damn right we haven’t talked, you were an asshole. The plan is just to ignore him. I’ve got nothing to say, really.
Brendan thinks it’s all so funny because he’s still friends with all his ex-girlfriends. I think it’s weird, but whatever. Apparently we talked at some length (with Vince) about this very subject on Saturday. I say apparently, because I also apparently had a lot of wine on Saturday, too.
Last weekend was a pretty relaxing one. Keith and Shadé came down for a visit and a BBQ with Glen, Sarah and Emma. We put some finishing touches on the backyard (sand around the concrete stones finally), and generally tried to take it as easy as possible.
Things are about to get crazy.
Plus, we’re starting on our busy social schedule for the summer. Honestly, I have like 10 friends and my summer social calendar is packed. How can people handle having more?
Last night I caught up on the last episode of The Real World. Short synopsis: skinny girl with history of eating disorder’s mother tells her she needs to go on a diet.
Now, I neither have an eating disorder nor a super-controlling mother, but it got me thinking. Every girl has those friends — the really skinny ones with the "high metabolism" who eat butterscotch krumpets and french fries for lunch, but still look like twigs — and I had two of them. We’ll call them J and E for simplicity. They could both shop in the girls’ section if they wanted, easily fitting into size 14 or 16. I had, and still have, some serious hips. Plus, I was more than head and shoulders taller than them (still am). There’s this one photo I have of the three of us, J on my left and E on my right, and my waist is at J’s shoulders and E’s armpits.
As thin as I was, I still despised shopping with the both of them. Inevitably, I’d end up in the dressing room between the two of them, and they’d be talking back and forth about needing a size 0 because the 3s were too big. And there I was, struggling to zip up the 11s. One time I remember vividly even now, was probably my junior year, and we were all shopping for homecoming or prom dresses or something, and E says, "Damn! All that’s left are fat girl sizes." I responded by picking one of them up and taking it to the dressing room. It still hurts my feelings, and it’s been about 10 years!
After high school, I didn’t really see either of them much, if at all. E more than J. I realized after a while that E just really isn’t a nice person. Anyway, the three of us actually all went to the same college. Still, since I’m a year older than E and two years older than J, and we were all interested in different things, there was very little contact. In fact, the first time I saw J on campus, and the last time I saw or talked to her was my very last day. I was driving out of the parking garage and she was driving in. We stopped said hello, I showed her my brand new engagement ring, and then we said goodbye.
The last time I saw E was at a wedding. Now I realize that this is totally snarky and bitchy of me, but I can’t help it: she’s put on a little weight. She’s not fat by any means; she’s certainly not the beanpole that she once was. It gives me a little bit of satisfaction to know that she’s probably in a double-digit size now. Like I said, I know it’s awful of me, but I can’t help it.