You pull into the parking lot and realize you left a candle burning at home. You have two choices: run home to extinguish the candle or be on time for your hard-to-get hair appointment. What do you do? Get the haircut or make sure you have a house to which to return?
The men at the supermarket sure seemed to like my new haircut. (Really. The checkout guy checked me out.)
The house smelled good when I walked through the door two hours later.
A light curtain of rain was falling. puddles of brown water pocked the surface of the Pennsylvania Turnpike as I returned this afternoon from my friend’s baby shower in Pittsburgh. I was weighing the pros and cons of a new job that might be offered to my sister as I sped across the Commonwealth.
Suddenly I was hurling toward the concrete barrier that separated me from the west-bound lanes of traffic. I jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on the brakes. My life flashed before my eyes and I screamed repeatedly. The car made a 360-degree circle and continued another 90 degrees, the back wheels moved down the rumble strips as my car continued East-bound, sideways. I finally came to a stop and looked out the driver’s side window to see a gold car and a tractor trailer flashing their four-ways. My sister’s voice streamed from the cell phone clutched in my right hand, near the gear shift.
Television shows, books and “safety ed” teachers tried to impress upon me the proper way to handle such a situation, but as the khaki concrete loomed in front of me, my mind was blank. Maybe someone should invent a Wii game to simulate hazardous driving conditions so I’ll be prepared for the third time I do a 360 in precipitation. (If such a product hits the market let me know. I’ll buy a Wii.)
How did I spend my morning? By taking photos of kids wearing milk mustaches and giving the kids a tour of the office.
How did my sister spend her morning? By dodging fireworks her students set off near gas tanks outside her classroom.
She gets to do all the fun stuff.
I was waiting in line after the candlelight Christmas service, wearing an adorable dress suit, when my former Sunday School teacher said to me, “You remind me so much of your Aunt Janet.”
“What – an old maid?!” I responded.
Aunt Janet is my great-grandfather’s sister and I can’t even hazard a guess of her age. My great-grandmother is 86-ish, but I think Aunt Janet is a little younger than that. She looks darn good for her age, at any rate. She’s had quite the life. She was a nurse in the Navy and has all kinds of degrees adorning her walls. She’s traveled all over the world and I’m sure she could tell stories that would make your hair curl. But she’s never been married, and the only guy that anyone talks about with a romantic connotation lived with his mother.
That exchange rolled over me as I folded clothes and reflected on a coworker’s announcement earlier today.
The years after college are marked with waves. First was the wedding wave, seven weddings one summer, six the next and others littered between. Three cousins get married in four months two summers ago. Two of my younger sisters have walked down the aisle. I’m riding in the baby waves right now. My nephew just turned one. The other weekend I went to a pregnancy party and this weekend is my college best friend’s baby shower in Pittsburgh. These three cousins have all become fathers in the past few months. A message was delivered to my inbox on Friday listing at least six sorority sisters who are pregnant and a coworker just today announced she’s due in November. This doesn’t even include the bloggers I stalk read.
Like all little girls I played bride and dreamed of my wedding day. Remember those dolls with the diapers that disintegrated to reveal the baby’s gender? The doll Santa brought me turned out to have a twin! But these days I don’t see myself getting married or having children. I would love to, but I just don’t see it in my future. I have a pretty big hang up that keeps me from getting too close to men. I don’t know if I tell myself I won’t get married so I won’t be dissappointed if it never happens or whether it’s related to how I deal with what I really want but over which I don’t have ultimate control. Like when I ran for milk queen. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t going to win so when my name was called it was a huge surprise (only not really because I totally knew I was going to win).
Being single is expensive and Carrie had the right idea on Sex and the City when she threw herself a party and registered for Manolos.
I know a marriage or children do not a complete life make. My question is this: how did Aunt Janet get so rich after buying gifts for all of the engagement parties, bridal showers, bachelorette parties, weddings, pregnancy parties, baby showers and birthday parties and never receiving gifts for the same milestones in her own life? And do they make Manolos to fit size 10 feet?
As I participated in the Dash for Organ Donor Awareness yesterday, my observant olfactory glands caught a whif of unpleasant second-hand smoke. Thanks for poisoning my lungs at a transplant fund-raiser, jackhole.
Before the 5K kicked off, the announcer wished a happy 21st birthday to a liver transplant recipient who’s had the liver for 19 years. I turned to my friend M and asked if liver transplant recipients celebrate that birthday in the traditional way.
PS-The “dash” was more like a crawl. It took me twice as long to complete the 3K walk as it did to run the 5K earlier that morning. But it was fun, and for a good cause.
I would love to say it was because I was recuperating from the crazy awesome weekend I had that it took me so long to write a blog entry about it, but that would be a lie. I’ve just been kind of lazy. After the tumultuous previous weekend, I was due a little stress-free me time.
I had a fabulous weekend packed with new adventures that made me fall more in love with Philadelphia.
First up, a four mile run on Saturday along Kelly Drive on the banks of the Schuylkill River. As the wind blew threw my hair, I passed crew teams, babes in strollers (and in shorts, ba-dum-ching), dogs straining again their leashes, couples strolling hand-in-hand and groups of awkward high school track stars. The cherry trees are in full bloom and the sun kept slipping behind fluffy white clouds.
As a lifelong Presbyterian, I’ve been looking for a church near my burg that meets my needs: an atmosphere I like and social actives for people my age. That’s a tall order to fill among Presbyterian churches near me, I guess. One church I visited had at most 15 people filling the pews. I don’t think any was younger than 65. I ride past the First Presbyterian Church everyday and finally broke down and went downtown for a service and it was totally worth it! It’s a gorgeous building, complete with Tiffany windows, and there’s even a young adults group and coffee hour after with food!
I love a good museum so I finally headed to the Franklin Institute and did something new: I became a member. I’m looking forward to the promised young professional events and special member privileges. Plus I got to ride the skybike for free! I don’t think I got the full experience. There’s a Star Wars exhibit, complete with costumed characters on select days. Guess which day was selected? It was packed… good thing I can go back!
Then it was on to hear the utterly charming Jennifer Weiner appeared at the nearby library. She’s so witty and I can’t wait to read her new book.
A brand new Desperate Housewives rounded out my pleasure-filled weekend.
How was your weekend? Hope this one’s great!
Dear Pandora,
I love you, I really do. You provide hours of listening pleasure as I toil away the days at work. I love being able to give a big thumbs up or smack down a song that gets on my last nerve. It’s all about the surprise beyond the scrollbar.
But I really wonder about you. What in my listening history would make you think it’s a great idea to go from Good Morning Beautiful by Steve Holy to Wake Up by The Arcade Fire to Lowlife by Scanners on an album called Violence is Golden? Here’s a hint: I pretty much only like country, with maybe a little Bon Jovi or New Kids on the Block tossed in for good measure. Please save that hardcore stuff for someone who really appreciates it and is wondering why Kenny Chesney keeps coming up.
XO,
PomJob
I was inspired by Jennsylvania’s post yesterday about what she’s been wrong about. Here’s my short list (I’m frequently wrong; I might revisit this as I remember things):
What were you wrong about?
In this crazy world of six degree of separation, a girl I worked with at a summer camp happens to be really good friends with one of my best friends from high school. It wasn’t until Summer Camp Girl’s wedding that I reconnected with High School Friend and it was almost like things picked up right where they left off. Now we get together every now and then to catch up.
HSF hosted this weekend’s pregnancy party for SCG and it was awesome. If you’re pregnant, hope to one day be pregnant, or have a pregnant friend or relative, I highly recommend them. It was basically a party to give the pregnant woman (SCG) a bunch of gifts to get her through the next two trimesters. She got a lot of pretty maternity clothes, cocoa butter, jewelry, books and a cravings kit (from me). There were no games, just yummy food and great conversation.
The rest of my weekend was like a smack in the face, though. So something to make me smile would be really appreciated.
I have a confession. When I visit my parents, I don’t spend much time in the barns or with the cows.
So I was surprised when I walked by the heifer pen and paused to say hi to the cow that she has the same name as my sister. Is there a cow named after me? I would feel oddly slighted if not. Am I not worthy to share a name with a cow?
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