Gathering Courage

Me and My Life

Getting invited to parties is an inherently stressful occurrence in my life. I know that I’ll have to decide what to wear (is this jeans-casual, slacks-casual, skirt-casual, slacks-formal, skirt-formal, or dress formal?), I’ll have to sit talk with multiple people I don’t know (I live in awe of people who can just pick a conversation out of the air and keep people talking for hours), not say the first thing that jumps to mind (because when I’m nervous, stupid things come out of my mouth), and generally expend a lot of energy looking like I do this sort of thing all the time.

Well, tonight I’ll be engaging in just such a gathering. My neighbor is celebrating her birthday by inviting all of her friends to hang out with her at a local restaurant/bar. And by “all of her friends” I mean droves of people, none of whom I’ve met or even heard of, all of whom have known each other since grade school, and all of whom are actually from this town. I can’t even conceive of what it might feel like to be so very much from a place that you still see friends from kindergarten, and frankly, this freaks me out. Think of all the in-jokes they know!

So I set myself some tasks that would increase my odds of actually going to this party rather than slipping into my PJs and making cocoa. I bought her flowers, I left my car out of the garage, I told a work friend I was going, and I got home and immediately changed into clothes that I will wear and NOT second-guess. Now, if I don’t go, I’ll have flowers to take care of (and keep the cat away from), I’ll have to move my car, I’ll have to tell my co-worker I chickened out when she asked me how it went, and I’ll have to change clothes yet again for no good reason. That all seems like work.

But just to be safe, I’ve got a plan of action for while I’m there. I’ll arrive a little late so I’m not the first person there, and I’ll “have to leave” after 45 minutes or an hour after I get there if I’m not having a good time. I think I’ll probably survive for an hour. Most likely. Maybe.

Update: Well… That was anticlimactic. They weren’t at the place I thought they’d be. So now I’m home, my car is put away, I’ve changed into PJs, and I’ve left the flowers at her door with a card. Time to make cocoa and curl up with a kitty.

Fine Art of Cooking for Others

Randomness

It’s a curious thing, cooking for people. I love to do it, mostly because I like to cook and I like home-cooked food, but I rarely take the time to do it without the motivation of serving guests. The thing is, it’s hard to tell when you’ve made enough food. If they eat everything, you know they liked whatever it is you made, which is good. But you also don’t know if they got enough to eat because no guest would ever say, “Hey, do you have peanut butter and jelly? I’m still hungry.” On the other hand, if lots is left over then you wonder if people enjoyed the food… and then there’s the problem of dealing with more leftovers than you can eat in a week.

Tonight, the food disappeared. It made for easy clean-up, but I hope people didn’t go home and start rummaging for crackers and cheese.

A Tricky Business

Portraits of People and Places

A halogen light burned out over my sink. This means that I’ll soon have to endure the socially awkward ordeal of going to our local hardware store to buy a new one.

I don’t know our hardware store well. It’s not that I don’t like being handy and all. I do. I just can never figure out the organizational scheme at the hardware store. I’m pretty sure it would make sense to truly handy people, particularly those with a little less estrogen and a little more facial hair, but it doesn’t make sense to me. So I usually have to ask the denizen of this little kingdom to help me find what I need.

Luckily for me, he’s the chatty, helpful type. He always walks me directly to the appropriate shelf and helps me choose between the various varieties of whatever-it-is-I-need. Then he walks me back to the cash register to complete the sale. Unluckily for him, he’s incredibly allergic to cats.

I learned this when I went there for wasp spray once, soon after moving here. After just a couple of minutes spent talking me through the various brands, he started coughing and sneezing. As I left, I wished him a speedy recovery from his cold only to be told, “Oh, I don’t have a cold. But I bet you have a cat.”

Ever since then, I work to keep more distance between us as he walks me toward the spackle or the calk. I have to judge just how far I can stay behind him without making him feel the need to slow down and help me close the distance. I try to time my arrival at the desired product for the moment when he’s made a decision so that we can immediately start our delicately spaced return to the cash register. On our way, I usually kick myself for not knowing how much money I’ll need to hand over the second we actually make it to the counter. Calculating the cost is difficult because a) I don’t do math in my head very well, especially percentages for tax, and b) I rarely get enough time near the product’s shelf to see the original price. But I want to be able to pay in cash because that takes less time.

Unfortunately, I don’t think he remembers that encounter 3 years ago, or why I might be minimizing contact and time. He probably sees me coming and thinks, “There’s that girl from out of town who’s always in such a hurry that she won’t stop to pass the time of day.”

Small town living is a tricky thing.

How I Will Know Spring Is Coming

Randomness

I’ll know spring is actually coming when…

  • My car windows thaw enough to be rolled up and down, relieving me of the need to open the entire door when mailing letters.
  • My apartment windows thaw enough to let me see out of them.
  • I’m able to stop shielding myself from the draft that lands right on the couch. (A sane person would sit in the loveseat on the other side of the room. But that’s not where I sit, and what would P think?)
  • I’m able to grasp door handles without worrying about freezing to them.
  • I get the urge to go for walks in the evening again, no longer fearing the Wind that really doesn’t care about hats and scarves and coats and layers (including silk long underwear and wool socks on top of regular socks). These are not actually obstacles for the Wind. They are simply a call to arms. A challenge.
  • The sun stays out for longer than my work day.

Things I will miss when this happens, despite the fact that I’m completely tired of being cold:

  • Cuddles from chilly kitties. I choose to see them as cuddles and not as a clever scheme to utilize the most accommodating heat-generator in the room. Don’t disabuse me.
  • Snow. I like snow.
  • My favorite combination of two lap blankets that are permanently waiting for me on the couch. I love sitting under blankets, and these two are so soft and warm when they’re layered on each other.
  • Sleeping under heavy blankets. This is my all-time favorite thing about winter. Beds are wonderful places, but they’re doubly wonderful if they’ve been made all nest-ish and warm with layers and layers of blankets.
  • Soup. I never seem to make or eat soup as much in the Spring and Summer.