Ed and I are hosting Easter this weekend for our families. This will be the first time my parents meet his (sadly Dad, Judy and Bubba will not be with us), and we are in the throes of Guest Preparations. We bought a case of wine yesterday so I’m pretty sure things will go well.
Aside from the procurement of booze, we found ourselves shopping for table linens because apparently this is what grown ups do when having other grown ups – our parents and Ed’s sister, aka For Realsies Grown Ups – over for a holiday gathering. Here is where we were unsure as to the proper protocol in the Land of Tablecloths and Napkins.
Are we supposed to buy stuff that matches the general decor of the house/dining area, even though it wouldn’t be classified as Easter-ish or Springy? However, it will get a lot of use since it, you know, looks nice and complements what’s goin’ on already. OR, do we purchase special Easter/Spring/pastel linens because That’s What Is Done and just roll with the fact that this stuff will sit untouched in a closet for much of the year? The third option, of course, is that it doesn’t matter either way because people just want good food and top shelf hooch* and Ed and I deserve each other because who else would put up with a couple of dorks who worry about this shit?
We did choose a course of action after much discussion, but I’m curious as to what you refined arbiters of class and taste have to say.
On a related note, do you remember when I wrote about my drunken shenanigans and wasn’t, like, totes lame? Yeah, me too.
*Trick question! My mom does care – A LOT – about tablescapes and home decor and will waste no time in pointing out flaws. And here you thought this was a pleasant family gathering. Suckers!
Among my many skills is the ability to feel homesick while sitting in my own living room. I don’t think my special brand of mental illness has ever been studied, but I look forward to one day appearing in a text book.
So. The Homesick Thing. Yeah. Sure, my address is here and this is where I hang my hat, so to speak, and all that good stuff but I still find myself struggling with nagging feelings of… I don’t now how to describe it other than homesickness. Toss in Ed being gone all the damn time lately for work (his last trip required 3 days of travel for 2 days of work but that’s totally reasonable, right?), my pathetic lack of friends in this area code and a feeling that I have exhausted all options for exploring this area and everything is old news and you have all the fixins for a sweet pity party. Don’t worry: I have enough wine for everyone.
This sounds like possibly the lamest thing ever, but my new project is to make some good friends here. I have one close friend in town (who happens to have a full life because she is a normal human), which is great. I also have lots of acquaintances, which is lovely. But as far as a group to hang out with or even a few people to call in times of crisis or celebration or even just because it’s happy hour? Not so much. Why is this so hard for me? I have friends! Even as a dorky kid with a headgear I had people to hang out with! I have a college degree and have finished a marathon and can accessorize the shit out of an outfit! This basic life skill shouldn’t be such a challenge.
In the past my coping mechanism for this homesickness was simply to pick up and leave, if only temporarily. Get my fix of good friends and a change of scenery and call it good. But part of growing up means facing up to hard things (that’s what she said) and since it looks like I’m going to be here for awhile, I should probably make the best of it.
The obnoxious thing about youth? You don’t realize how easy it all was. Making friends in first grade involved inviting someone over to play with Barbies. In college? Tapping the keg. And then holding back your friend’s hair while she puked.
If Match.com had a thing for just being friends I’d be all over that shit.
ETA: The fact that I am clearly full-tilt nuts and lacking in friends has not escaped me.
Eat a dick. Also, send me more vodka since you seem to have all kinds of free time, what with the planes NOT taking off and landing at the appointed times. If I develop a drinking problem it’s SO your fault.
I’m going to be honest with you: I’ve been in a cranky funk the last couple of days. I’m trying to isolate the reasons why and draw up a plan of attack to combat this ennui. Part of my plan includes watching this from my friend Habesha Child. Elsa’s song and dance routine has put a smile on my face and has inspired me to work on some new original dance moves.
Check out her blog for more videos and adorable photos of her gorgeous child and posts devoted to the glory of bacon.
Most people get depressed around THE holiday season but I’ve been a little depressed the past few days over one of my favorites: St. Patrick’s Day. Yeah, yeah. Dismiss it as a magnet for drunken retardedness and an excuse to be drunk by 9am. But… it is the only time of year when being a pasty redhead makes you vaguely cool! Plus, I really like an excuse to be drunk by 9am.
Chico took its rep for being the quintessential college-town-that-knows-how-to-party waaay seriously for years, resulting in escalating violence and debauchery. The two big draws were Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day, which happen to be my two favorite holidays. One is based on dressing up and eating candy, the other is about beer. Both feature colors I love. Neither requires negotiating time with family. Everybody wins!
But the crazy-good-times got out of control around here. Like, rioting and destruction of property and assaults and other things that were NOT cool, man. So the fair city took matters into its own hands: Halloween has pretty much been “shut down” and all schools in Chico schedule Sprng Break to coincide with St. Patrick’s Day in hopes that students will leave town, hopefully decreasing the chances of things going totally off the rails.
Now, I’m absolutely in favor of the town reining in the insanity if it means I can drink my beer without being hit in the face by a shoe some idiot throws in the air. But still. Don’t the grown-ups get to have some fun? Or am I too old to go out?
Please don’t tell me I’m too old. That would be way harsh.