Wishing you all a happy, fun and safe Halloween!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
A little nostalgia never hurt anyone.
The year was 1997. I had made a weekend trip from San Francisco to LA with my then-fiance and walked into the private room at the now-defunct Maple Drive restaurant in Beverly Hills. My newly-accepted engagement ring was still sparkly, I was quickly rising in the ranks of the high-profile ad agency where I worked, and I still had my pre-baby body. As I entered the room, I swept my youngest cousin (and future flower girl) into a hug and she quickly crawled into my lap, the place she would spend much of the rest of the evening. People came by to examine the ring and offer their congratulations. And the room was filled with a love and camaraderie that was palpable to everyone who was in it. The occasion was the 55th wedding anniversary of my great-aunt and great-uncle. My large extended family is unusually close (aunts and uncles are like extra parents, cousins are like siblings), and virtually all of us were in attendance to honor the matriarch and patriarch of our clan.
As was the trend in those days, a large screen was set up in the room after dinner and a slideshow of their entire life together slowly played out, set to music, for all to see. The honorees ooohed and aaahed at every moment. Each picture sparked a memory, inspired laughter, or evoked a tear. And while they had lived a very successful life, with an ocean-view house in Bel Air and a stable of luxury cars in the driveway to show for it, I was astonished to note that their fondest memories were of the time where they were just starting out and didn't have a dime to their name.
I remember commenting on that fact to my fiance, who said his grandparents were much the same way...remembering with perfect clarity the "good old days" when they lived in a one room apartment with 2 young children. Of course, on that night, I was still in my twenties, an overachiever to my core, with my eyes firmly set on my next big client win and the next bigger and cuter apartment. So the entire concept of being happier when I was poorer was just a complete anathema.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. As I've gotten older, I've come to realize that it's not so much that "the good old days" were so much better and so much simpler. It's merely that they are far enough in the past for you to amplify the good parts and gloss over the bad. And the challenges presented during that part of your life are ones that you have already overcome, so of course it seems easier than present day. It's like reading a book when you already know how it ends. There's no more suspense, but you discover aspects that you overlooked the first time around when you were worried about the next plot twist to come your way. When you take yourself out of the moment, and know that it will all work out in the end, everything seems so much better, and you remember to enjoy the ride.
Time marches on. You grow older. You succeed and you fail, often not realizing the difference between the two. Perspective changes. And former flower girls celebrate their 18th birthdays.
So now, as my kids roll their eyes when my husband and I talk about our first apartment together with undeserved affection (tiny, in a horrible neighborhood, with a homeless man who liked to bang a metal pipe against a fire hydrant outside our window each night at 3am), I understand that it's not that life back then was easier. It was that we survived it, learned from it, and are the better for having experienced it. I now have earned my very own "good old days."
Life throws curveballs, and it can be hard to keep your eye on the ball. But when things seem tough, just remember that, one day, you'll be looking back on this moment with an irrational fondness that is disproportionate to the actual events of the time. And that will make all the difference.
"A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery while on a detour." -Author Unknown
Happy Birthday Amy! This one was for you.
Love. You.
As was the trend in those days, a large screen was set up in the room after dinner and a slideshow of their entire life together slowly played out, set to music, for all to see. The honorees ooohed and aaahed at every moment. Each picture sparked a memory, inspired laughter, or evoked a tear. And while they had lived a very successful life, with an ocean-view house in Bel Air and a stable of luxury cars in the driveway to show for it, I was astonished to note that their fondest memories were of the time where they were just starting out and didn't have a dime to their name.
I remember commenting on that fact to my fiance, who said his grandparents were much the same way...remembering with perfect clarity the "good old days" when they lived in a one room apartment with 2 young children. Of course, on that night, I was still in my twenties, an overachiever to my core, with my eyes firmly set on my next big client win and the next bigger and cuter apartment. So the entire concept of being happier when I was poorer was just a complete anathema.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. As I've gotten older, I've come to realize that it's not so much that "the good old days" were so much better and so much simpler. It's merely that they are far enough in the past for you to amplify the good parts and gloss over the bad. And the challenges presented during that part of your life are ones that you have already overcome, so of course it seems easier than present day. It's like reading a book when you already know how it ends. There's no more suspense, but you discover aspects that you overlooked the first time around when you were worried about the next plot twist to come your way. When you take yourself out of the moment, and know that it will all work out in the end, everything seems so much better, and you remember to enjoy the ride.
Time marches on. You grow older. You succeed and you fail, often not realizing the difference between the two. Perspective changes. And former flower girls celebrate their 18th birthdays.
So now, as my kids roll their eyes when my husband and I talk about our first apartment together with undeserved affection (tiny, in a horrible neighborhood, with a homeless man who liked to bang a metal pipe against a fire hydrant outside our window each night at 3am), I understand that it's not that life back then was easier. It was that we survived it, learned from it, and are the better for having experienced it. I now have earned my very own "good old days."
Life throws curveballs, and it can be hard to keep your eye on the ball. But when things seem tough, just remember that, one day, you'll be looking back on this moment with an irrational fondness that is disproportionate to the actual events of the time. And that will make all the difference.
"A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery while on a detour." -Author Unknown
Happy Birthday Amy! This one was for you.
Love. You.
Monday, October 26, 2009
I have writer's block.
This is not a good thing. I'm supposed to be starting a new novel in 6 days, and I can't even think of something interesting to blog about?
I'm doomed.
So instead, I'm going to cheat and make this entry be a very small excerpt from my first novel instead. This selection comes from Chapter 3, and since you have no idea what has happened up to this point, or who any of these characters are, don't expect any of it to make sense. But I chose this particular selection, as I thought some of you may appreciate one of the references. :)
I perused the Metro section as the coffee percolated. There was a big charity gala happening tonight at the uber-fancy Presidio Hotel downtown, and the front page article contained speculation about the composition of the guest list.
I grabbed the phone again, and sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter. I dialed Marley’s number as I skimmed the article.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” she grumbled into the phone.
“Good morning to you too,” I said brightly.
“You know the rules. No calling me this early unless you’ve lost a limb in a freak bagel-slicing accident and need a ride to the ER.”
“No lost limbs.”
“Charlotte, unless you are sitting next to a cooler that contains your severed hand that is in urgent need of reattachment, I am hanging up and going back to sleep.”
“My god, it’s not that early. It’s 8:30 for chrissakes.”
“Trust me, 8:30 is early when you didn’t get home until 4am.”
“What on earth were you doing out at 4am? Oh wait. Never mind. I’m thinking that I don’t really want to know.”
“Don't give me that. Of course you want to know. I had a date with a coffee importer,” Marley sighed dreamily. “I think he’s The One!”
“Please. First of all, you don’t believe in The One. You always tell me it’s just a conspiracy by the cosmetics and jewelry industries to force us into the unnatural state of monogamy. And second of all, “coffee importer” is code for “mobster.” You do know that, right?”
“Pfft. Since when do you listen to me so closely? And besides I can admit when I’m wrong.”
“Since when?”
“Since I swore that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston would last forever, and that Angelina was just a midlife crisis.”
I shook my head in exasperation. “Don’t you even care why I called?” I demanded.
Marley sighed. “I suppose.”
“I just wanted to apologize for freaking out on you last night. I know now that I was acting ridiculously. No more twins separated at birth nonsense for me.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You had me worried there.”
“No need to worry. I’m even heading back to work on Monday. I think some normalcy is exactly what the doctor ordered right about now.”
“Well, I’m not happy that you’re going back to the sweatshop, but I am glad that the bereavement period seems to be in the home stretch.”
“Yeah, I called Ainsely this morning and I…” I stopped in my tracks as a sentence from the newspaper article caught my eye.
Marley broke the sudden silence. “Char? Are you still there?”
“Hmm,” I replied thoughtfully, as an idea began to formulate in my mind. It was crazy, risky, and certain to end disastrously. In other words, it was right up Marley's alley.
“Have any plans tonight?” I asked.
“No, why?”
“Because you’re crashing a party with me."
So there you have it. Who knows, if the block continues, I may end up posting the entire thing here!
I'm doomed.
So instead, I'm going to cheat and make this entry be a very small excerpt from my first novel instead. This selection comes from Chapter 3, and since you have no idea what has happened up to this point, or who any of these characters are, don't expect any of it to make sense. But I chose this particular selection, as I thought some of you may appreciate one of the references. :)
I perused the Metro section as the coffee percolated. There was a big charity gala happening tonight at the uber-fancy Presidio Hotel downtown, and the front page article contained speculation about the composition of the guest list.
I grabbed the phone again, and sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter. I dialed Marley’s number as I skimmed the article.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” she grumbled into the phone.
“Good morning to you too,” I said brightly.
“You know the rules. No calling me this early unless you’ve lost a limb in a freak bagel-slicing accident and need a ride to the ER.”
“No lost limbs.”
“Charlotte, unless you are sitting next to a cooler that contains your severed hand that is in urgent need of reattachment, I am hanging up and going back to sleep.”
“My god, it’s not that early. It’s 8:30 for chrissakes.”
“Trust me, 8:30 is early when you didn’t get home until 4am.”
“What on earth were you doing out at 4am? Oh wait. Never mind. I’m thinking that I don’t really want to know.”
“Don't give me that. Of course you want to know. I had a date with a coffee importer,” Marley sighed dreamily. “I think he’s The One!”
“Please. First of all, you don’t believe in The One. You always tell me it’s just a conspiracy by the cosmetics and jewelry industries to force us into the unnatural state of monogamy. And second of all, “coffee importer” is code for “mobster.” You do know that, right?”
“Pfft. Since when do you listen to me so closely? And besides I can admit when I’m wrong.”
“Since when?”
“Since I swore that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston would last forever, and that Angelina was just a midlife crisis.”
I shook my head in exasperation. “Don’t you even care why I called?” I demanded.
Marley sighed. “I suppose.”
“I just wanted to apologize for freaking out on you last night. I know now that I was acting ridiculously. No more twins separated at birth nonsense for me.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You had me worried there.”
“No need to worry. I’m even heading back to work on Monday. I think some normalcy is exactly what the doctor ordered right about now.”
“Well, I’m not happy that you’re going back to the sweatshop, but I am glad that the bereavement period seems to be in the home stretch.”
“Yeah, I called Ainsely this morning and I…” I stopped in my tracks as a sentence from the newspaper article caught my eye.
Marley broke the sudden silence. “Char? Are you still there?”
“Hmm,” I replied thoughtfully, as an idea began to formulate in my mind. It was crazy, risky, and certain to end disastrously. In other words, it was right up Marley's alley.
“Have any plans tonight?” I asked.
“No, why?”
“Because you’re crashing a party with me."
So there you have it. Who knows, if the block continues, I may end up posting the entire thing here!
Friday, October 23, 2009
Dear Facebook:
Please stop redesigning your site every few weeks. I am a creature of habit and very easily confused.
Very truly yours,
Jessica
Very truly yours,
Jessica
Monday, October 19, 2009
Things I did this weekend
In no particular order:
1. Got stung by a bee
2. Channelled Supernanny
3. Went to a party held at a $3 million house
4. Had fun with posterboard, glitter glue and foam letters
5. Hung out with Adam Sandler
6. Watched the Trojans win in South Bend, despite refs giving the Irish every opportunity
7. Finalized Halloween costumes for the entire family
8. Remembered where I was 20 years ago when the Earthquake hit
9. Cheered on the Yankees
10. Sent an attempt at an inspirational email to circle of novel writing buddies
11. Made new friends-- a plastic surgeon, a pediatric cardiologist, a photographer and an actress
12. Started planning party of my own
13. Thought I was going to the U2 concert (until plans changed, darn it)
14. Planned outing with friends to go to a book signing (author is a friend) and dinner on the Sunset Strip
15. Heard all about friend's new boyfriend who is (literally) a rock star
Whew. And I was wondering why I'm so exhausted today.
1. Got stung by a bee
2. Channelled Supernanny
3. Went to a party held at a $3 million house
4. Had fun with posterboard, glitter glue and foam letters
5. Hung out with Adam Sandler
6. Watched the Trojans win in South Bend, despite refs giving the Irish every opportunity
7. Finalized Halloween costumes for the entire family
8. Remembered where I was 20 years ago when the Earthquake hit
9. Cheered on the Yankees
10. Sent an attempt at an inspirational email to circle of novel writing buddies
11. Made new friends-- a plastic surgeon, a pediatric cardiologist, a photographer and an actress
12. Started planning party of my own
13. Thought I was going to the U2 concert (until plans changed, darn it)
14. Planned outing with friends to go to a book signing (author is a friend) and dinner on the Sunset Strip
15. Heard all about friend's new boyfriend who is (literally) a rock star
Whew. And I was wondering why I'm so exhausted today.
Friday, October 16, 2009
New Math for Old People
Last night I (along with 100 or so other parents) filed into our kids' school auditorium to learn all about the fancy new way they're teaching math to our kids.
Or, at least, learn who the smart parents are so we can send our kids to their houses for math homework help.
For the next 2 hours we sat at cafeteria style lunch tables, Number 2 pencils in hand, relearning math from Kindergarten through 6th Grade.
We all immediately reverted back to our grade school selves. Parent cliques saved seats for each other at "their tables." The smart asses stayed in the back and quietly heckled the fancy math consultant up in the front. The brown nosers raised their hands after each problem to explain to the group how they solved it. The cheaters used the calculators on their phones or copied off a friend's paper. And the jocks kept one eye on their phones to get regular updates from the Dodger playoff game that was happening at the same time.
If there is one thing I know about myself, it's that I hate math. Seriously. I was a liberal arts major for crying out loud. I can write a 40 page term paper on any subject without batting an eyelash, but put mathematical equations in front of me and I suffer an immediate mental block. The only way I learned fractions was from a novel I read in 3rd grade, which was (in part) about a girl my age who had trouble with fractions. Put it in a book and I'll remember it forever.
So needless to say, I was a little hesitant going in last night. And became even more so once I opened the booklet of math problems we were going to be tackling that evening.
In the end though, it wasn't scary at all. It was kinda fun to go back to school for a night with my circle of parent friends. And even more fun to find out that I was better at it than some parents that I don't like. :)
Now when are they going to come up with a new way to teach English Lit? Because I am all over a night of that. I want to be teacher's pet too!
Or, at least, learn who the smart parents are so we can send our kids to their houses for math homework help.
For the next 2 hours we sat at cafeteria style lunch tables, Number 2 pencils in hand, relearning math from Kindergarten through 6th Grade.
We all immediately reverted back to our grade school selves. Parent cliques saved seats for each other at "their tables." The smart asses stayed in the back and quietly heckled the fancy math consultant up in the front. The brown nosers raised their hands after each problem to explain to the group how they solved it. The cheaters used the calculators on their phones or copied off a friend's paper. And the jocks kept one eye on their phones to get regular updates from the Dodger playoff game that was happening at the same time.
If there is one thing I know about myself, it's that I hate math. Seriously. I was a liberal arts major for crying out loud. I can write a 40 page term paper on any subject without batting an eyelash, but put mathematical equations in front of me and I suffer an immediate mental block. The only way I learned fractions was from a novel I read in 3rd grade, which was (in part) about a girl my age who had trouble with fractions. Put it in a book and I'll remember it forever.
So needless to say, I was a little hesitant going in last night. And became even more so once I opened the booklet of math problems we were going to be tackling that evening.
In the end though, it wasn't scary at all. It was kinda fun to go back to school for a night with my circle of parent friends. And even more fun to find out that I was better at it than some parents that I don't like. :)
Now when are they going to come up with a new way to teach English Lit? Because I am all over a night of that. I want to be teacher's pet too!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
If we're talking resolutions already, where's the champagne?
I learned an important lesson this week-- don't care so much what other people think.
I guess I should say I "relearned" it. It's certainly something that, in theory, I've known most of my life. And it's something that is usually the first thing a friend says to you when you are, in fact, caring entirely too much about what other people think.
I've been lucky enough in my life to have an amazing support system of people who love me. True friends are few and far between, and I am blessed with many. One gave me a great piece of advice this week: "why do you care about what people you don't like or respect think of you?"
She's right. I don't. Sorta. So I will attempt to turn off the "people-pleaser" part of my genetic make-up just long enough to internalize that lesson-- and hopefully not let my feelings get so easily hurt in the future.
So here's my first new year's resolution (about 11 weeks early)-- If something or someone doesn't enhance my life in some way, I'm not going to waste valuable energy on it. Life is too short, and I'm too busy.
Hopefully, I'll stick to it longer than my "get up in time for 6am bootcamp every morning" and "don't spend so much money on shoes" resolutions. I'm only so strong you know.
I guess I should say I "relearned" it. It's certainly something that, in theory, I've known most of my life. And it's something that is usually the first thing a friend says to you when you are, in fact, caring entirely too much about what other people think.
I've been lucky enough in my life to have an amazing support system of people who love me. True friends are few and far between, and I am blessed with many. One gave me a great piece of advice this week: "why do you care about what people you don't like or respect think of you?"
She's right. I don't. Sorta. So I will attempt to turn off the "people-pleaser" part of my genetic make-up just long enough to internalize that lesson-- and hopefully not let my feelings get so easily hurt in the future.
So here's my first new year's resolution (about 11 weeks early)-- If something or someone doesn't enhance my life in some way, I'm not going to waste valuable energy on it. Life is too short, and I'm too busy.
Hopefully, I'll stick to it longer than my "get up in time for 6am bootcamp every morning" and "don't spend so much money on shoes" resolutions. I'm only so strong you know.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Everything I Need To Know, I've Learned From My Kids
This list was inspired by my daughter, who scored 3 goals in her soccer game today. When I told her how proud I was, she said "I just decided I was going to try my hardest, not get upset when things didn't go my way, and never, ever quit."
Smart kid, huh?
So here, without any further ado, are some of the life lessons I've leaned from my children:
1. Find excitement in the small things in life
2. Sometimes I'm totally wrong about whether or not an outfit goes together
3. There's nothing quite as yummy as a chocolate chip cookie
4. If someone looks interesting, ask if they want to play with you
5. If you don't understand something, don't be afraid to ask "why?"
6. Try new things. Often.
7. Don't hold grudges
8. Lizards are really, really cool
9. You really do feel better after throwing a tantrum
10. Tell the people important to you that you love them, every single day
Smart kid, huh?
So here, without any further ado, are some of the life lessons I've leaned from my children:
1. Find excitement in the small things in life
2. Sometimes I'm totally wrong about whether or not an outfit goes together
3. There's nothing quite as yummy as a chocolate chip cookie
4. If someone looks interesting, ask if they want to play with you
5. If you don't understand something, don't be afraid to ask "why?"
6. Try new things. Often.
7. Don't hold grudges
8. Lizards are really, really cool
9. You really do feel better after throwing a tantrum
10. Tell the people important to you that you love them, every single day
Friday, October 9, 2009
My perfectly imperfect life
We all know that life can be challenging. I'm in a particularly crazy phase right now...it's the busiest time of the year for me at work, and various family, friend and home issues have come to a head recently. Nothing particularly terrible (certainly not compared to what other people deal with on a regular basis), just one of those "Calgon take me away" moments...but one that has lasted for weeks.
I am generally a very positive and happy person, but even I was starting to buckle under the pressure. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try (and how much we know better), the glass is half empty and the light at the end of the tunnel is just too far out of reach to properly see.
In the middle of a rant to some friends yesterday, I jokingly said "aren't you happy you're all here to watch my descent into a nervous breakdown?" To which a friend teased, "you're not allowed to have a breakdown...you're the stable one of our group. If you go, then there is no hope for the rest of us."
I laughed, but it did make me realize that part of my stress comes from feeling responsible for everything and everyone. I always want to be strong-- a good friend, a good mom, a good wife, a good person. No chinks in armor allowed. It's the problem of being a perfectionist in an imperfect world.
I think one of the biggest challenges in life is remembering to see (and appreciate) what is wonderful, as opposed to what isn't up to par. To be open to possibilities, and to see opportunity where others might see disappointment. To make the choice to not get caught up in inconsequentials and to be happy instead. I have a fantastic life, and I won't let it be derailed by sons who get in trouble for kissing girls in their class, fights with insurance companies over prescription coverage, billion dollar corporations who complain about a $155 invoice, or any of the rest of it.
So this is me. Choosing to be happy. Even if it kills me. :)
I am generally a very positive and happy person, but even I was starting to buckle under the pressure. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try (and how much we know better), the glass is half empty and the light at the end of the tunnel is just too far out of reach to properly see.
In the middle of a rant to some friends yesterday, I jokingly said "aren't you happy you're all here to watch my descent into a nervous breakdown?" To which a friend teased, "you're not allowed to have a breakdown...you're the stable one of our group. If you go, then there is no hope for the rest of us."
I laughed, but it did make me realize that part of my stress comes from feeling responsible for everything and everyone. I always want to be strong-- a good friend, a good mom, a good wife, a good person. No chinks in armor allowed. It's the problem of being a perfectionist in an imperfect world.
I think one of the biggest challenges in life is remembering to see (and appreciate) what is wonderful, as opposed to what isn't up to par. To be open to possibilities, and to see opportunity where others might see disappointment. To make the choice to not get caught up in inconsequentials and to be happy instead. I have a fantastic life, and I won't let it be derailed by sons who get in trouble for kissing girls in their class, fights with insurance companies over prescription coverage, billion dollar corporations who complain about a $155 invoice, or any of the rest of it.
So this is me. Choosing to be happy. Even if it kills me. :)
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Blind date
I went on a blind date yesterday.
Or, I suppose, to be more accurate, I went on the "married person with small kids" version of a blind date: taking my child for a playdate at the house of a person I'd never met before.
This is much more stressful than it sounds, even for a chatterbox like me. 2 hours, making small talk with a complete stranger that I may not have anything in common with. Not to mention the added stress if worrying if my kid is going to cause some serious destruction to their home.
Note: if you think I'm kidding about the destruction part, remind me to tell the story of the time my son broke a floor lamp and ripped two trees out of a backyard during a playdate. We have not been invited back.
I've enjoyed the full range of experiences during these types of outings over the years. There was the time that I got along so well with the other mom that we immediately called our husbands to come join us at the park. Which then turned into lunch at a nearby restaurant. And then hanging out at their house. Followed by dinner. Basically your thirtysomething version of a Pub Crawl.
But then I've also had the flip side happen...nodding pleasantly as the other mom talks about something that's diametrically opposed to my worldview, or else lectures me about something she feels I'm doing wrong in my life, while I sneak texts to a friend begging for an immedate rescue.
Of course, most experiences fall somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. They wouldn't call it the Holy Grail of couple friends (a couple that both you and your husband like equally, on top of the kids getting along) if they were easy to find. And, on the other end of the spectrum, most people manage to keep their particular brand of crazy under wraps until you get to know them better.
Anyway, off I went yesterday, youngest child in tow, hoping that the time wouldn't pass too slowly. To my pleasant surprise the afternoon flew by. The boys had a blast, and I really liked both the parents. And, even more surprisingly, I was fairly certain my husband would like them too (he's a tough customer).
So now I wait the socially acceptable length of time before calling them to get together again (but not before asking a mutual friend what she heard about the playdate, and if they liked us too).
And here I thought the dating rules ended once I got married.
Or, I suppose, to be more accurate, I went on the "married person with small kids" version of a blind date: taking my child for a playdate at the house of a person I'd never met before.
This is much more stressful than it sounds, even for a chatterbox like me. 2 hours, making small talk with a complete stranger that I may not have anything in common with. Not to mention the added stress if worrying if my kid is going to cause some serious destruction to their home.
Note: if you think I'm kidding about the destruction part, remind me to tell the story of the time my son broke a floor lamp and ripped two trees out of a backyard during a playdate. We have not been invited back.
I've enjoyed the full range of experiences during these types of outings over the years. There was the time that I got along so well with the other mom that we immediately called our husbands to come join us at the park. Which then turned into lunch at a nearby restaurant. And then hanging out at their house. Followed by dinner. Basically your thirtysomething version of a Pub Crawl.
But then I've also had the flip side happen...nodding pleasantly as the other mom talks about something that's diametrically opposed to my worldview, or else lectures me about something she feels I'm doing wrong in my life, while I sneak texts to a friend begging for an immedate rescue.
Of course, most experiences fall somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. They wouldn't call it the Holy Grail of couple friends (a couple that both you and your husband like equally, on top of the kids getting along) if they were easy to find. And, on the other end of the spectrum, most people manage to keep their particular brand of crazy under wraps until you get to know them better.
Anyway, off I went yesterday, youngest child in tow, hoping that the time wouldn't pass too slowly. To my pleasant surprise the afternoon flew by. The boys had a blast, and I really liked both the parents. And, even more surprisingly, I was fairly certain my husband would like them too (he's a tough customer).
So now I wait the socially acceptable length of time before calling them to get together again (but not before asking a mutual friend what she heard about the playdate, and if they liked us too).
And here I thought the dating rules ended once I got married.
Friday, October 2, 2009
To the victor... goes the insanely yummy dessert.
Lunch debt paid in full to the winner of my 10 Truths and a Lie game.
Emphasis on the "full" part. The two of us not finishing dessert is unheard of!
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