Ten Random Things That Made Me Happy Today

1) Waking up to a fresh-air, non-air-conditioned bedroom because it was finally cool enough to turn it off last night.

2) Ducking into my destination the very moment before the first raindrop hit.

3) Hearing an old song on the radio I hadn't heard for a while and still being able to belt out every word.

4) Receiving a sweet birthday card from a relative who never ceases to put my age in quotes between the printed "Happy" and "birthday;" lest I forget, I guess.

5) That no less than three colleagues wished me an early happy birthday knowing they were going out of town and won't be seeing me again until after it occurs...and I didn't even know they knew it was coming up!

6) A frustrated gentleman who seemed so appreciative and gave me a huge smile and wave when no one else let him into traffic and I did.

7) That it took until today to hear that "Call Me Maybe" song for the first time.

8) The way the O and the G in the Kroger sign smiled at me when I walked in today.

9) When I take a day away from the office, as I did on Friday, that I'm actually shown I was missed and appreciated: even told so.

10) Finding a leftover egg roll in the fridge I thought I had scarfed down Saturday night but was actually hiding in my beer cooler, er, vegetable crisper.

All little things, but when you add them up, it makes for a verra [sic] fine day. And on a Monday even. If there were 11 things on this list, I'd add: the technology, ability, cognizance and chance to be able to do this all again tomorrow, God willing.

Saying Goodbye

Throughout our lives we say goodbye. From the most difficult times, like the death of a family member, to the most sentimental ones, like turning over the keys to the first car you ever bought on your own when you get a new one, life is full of goodbyes.

I just had to say goodbye to my little boy Oy. My dear kitten -- who I call a kitten because he was my little Peter Pan: never "grew up" (in that he was always an indoor critterlove and always had that kitten mentality: four-legged parents know what I mean) and was always so sweet and energetic. But he's been sick for over two months now and went away this weekend off to heaven. If all dogs go to heaven, all cats do too, right?

I don't remember a time on my own that I haven't had a furry companion. After college, I lived with a roommate and she had a cat named Easter. Big Tori Amos fan, she was. So when I left her to move to Atlanta, I knew I wanted that in my life, too. Always lived with these loved ones growing up. In college, I did not (for obvious reasons: they don't allow them in the dorms, for one. Though I did have fish and a killer albino water frog once) but as soon as I was able to again, I did.

And I suppose our years together make up for the extreme sadness I feel right now. I might be able to actually believe that sentence in a little while. Right now, it's a little hard.

When I lost my Sammy cat here, I couldn't look at his pictures for a while. Now I can and be OK, but I couldn't then. But at the same time I also had dear little Oy who helped me not realize the sadness to the extent I am at this moment for the very fact that he was there. I could tell for a while he was sort of distraught back then too: where did the big orange daddy kitty go? But because of that loss, he became much more loving and always wanting *to be there*; a role Sammy always played before that since I had had him first. We were a comfort and blessing to each other in that way.

And so we got on. And moved on. And my little trouper Oy moved from home to home, place to place with me. I really think where I am now, he came most alive again in all the 15 years I was blessed to have him. He purred constantly. Curled up on my shoulder and tucked his little chin against me as I fell asleep. Loved playing with his "fishy toy" and greeted me at the door every day I'd come home from work. And every time I crawled into bed, wherever he was at the time, it would only take a few minutes to hear his "click click" feets [sic] across my hardwood floors to come to me, jump up on the bed and curl up with me for the night.

I have amazing friends. I told only a couple of friends what had to happen this weekend (and the fact the vet agreed gives me so much comfort) and the outpouring of support has astonished me and brings me to thankful tears even as I type right now. Wow, do I have an amazing support system. And I have to give special credit to an amazing man in my life who actually drove us, me and my baby, to the vet so I wouldn't have to go alone and subject Oy to his hated cat carrier; I was able to hold him instead. With Sammy, I didn't know who I could ask. I felt I had to do it alone so I did. It was such a blessing to find out that I didn't have to this time.

Sadly, and I feel horrible -- but I didn't realize at the time that when this same man had his own kitty years ago that I somehow unfortunately picked the same exact place he had to do the same thing himself back then. Right there, in that same room, even. Oh, how horrible did I feel! But he stayed there with me until the time where he knew the last moments I needed on my own with dear Oy instead.

Because when I had the same experience with Sammy, I couldn't do it. I couldn't be there, touching, holding him in his last moments. I always regretted it. How selfish! How scared was I (the first time I ever had to alone), but wow, how selfish too. So I promised my Oy earlier that day when I was waiting for him to come by to take us that I wouldn't do that. I would be there this time. And I was.

And I was there, my hands on him, for his last breath two days ago just as he was for me every time I fell asleep or laughed or cried and he somehow knew I needed him. And I hope he knew, even in slow sedation, that I was there for him at the last breath too. Well...his second last. He was already asleep via sedatives and I just didn't want to see or feel the last one and the folks at this place were so amazing to my needs. As were all of you who knew what was happening or found out shortly after and are here for me.

I'm not the first to lose a furry little loved one. I certainly won't be the last. But to have someone there this time to fold me up in arms and show me I wasn't alone meant the world. I didn't have that the last time. And I also know this time, with all the kind words and support I've received since, that I had any number of y'all who would have done the same darn thing for me had I only asked. I truly do like to think that Oy probably knew that too and was OK to go in his sweet little way because of it.

I went to lunch that afternoon with my friends (planned over a month before), knowing what I had to do afterward. I almost cancelled but for some reason decided not to instead. I realize now it's because any one of those folks -- or even all of them -- would have dropped the rest of their afternoon plans to come with me if I had only made mention of it. Maybe both me and Oy needed to know that. And it made it so much easier.

I don't like to name people by name here just because I like to respect people's privacy. But I want to thank everyone at that lunch that day, the dear who held me, my friends who helped me just have fun and forget for a little while that same evening (and the evening before), my colleagues and sorority sisters and friends who said: "just tell me what you need" when I was just wanting to apologize for my attitude and appearance today. I want to thank the friends who actually told mutual friends when I couldn't and, even though it made me tear up, it meant the world to get a little text message saying, "whatever you need." And the family members who are friends and the friends who are family who I know in a heartbeat I could call right now and they'd answer. And the friends and even acquaintances who distracted me with sweet, funny stories of their own or troubles of their own, not even knowing or asking why I looked so horrid today...because it didn't have to focus on saying goodbye just yet.

Because throughout our lives we say goodbye. From the most difficult times (like the death of a family member) to the most sentimental ones (like turning over the keys to the first car you ever bought on your own when you get a new one), life is full of goodbyes.

How blessed I am that I know I will never have to have a single one alone again if I don't want to. Because of all of you.

My apologies, dear MARTA.

MARTA? I love you now.

I've been talking about how much I love living here in the heart of the city, how I can park my car and just walk anywhere. But I never really realized until today how convenient MARTA is for us in-city folks too. It almost makes me wish I had voted yes on the TSPLOT issue. (Heh. Almost.) *grin*

I had an appointment in downtown Atlanta today and though I know Midtown like the back of my hand now, Downtown still kind of makes me nervous (even though it's only 2 miles away!). I drove past my appointment place on my way to work today just to see where it was. There was just SO much, so many buildings and offices and weird street turns and bright lights and all that to this non-acclimated girl. But knowing the general area after that, it gave me a general idea that: Hey! There's a MARTA train stop somewhere there. Somewhere real close, even. I think?

Time to learn these things, chica.

So when I had to go to my appointment hours later (after driving by hours earlier and knowing my geography), I took a chance and ditched my car and high heels for flats and walked the few blocks to my well-known train station just blocks away instead. And I got off at the station that I thought would be the correct one. Maybe? Hopefully? And realized after I did? I only had to walk about another five paces tops (no joke!) to get to the building I needed. Score! MARTA? Thank you.

And then a few hours later, back home safely and easily from that same system, I planned to meet up with friends and wanted to have a beer or two. I know I could drive there easily (have before). But planning to have a beer or two and if I didn't have to? Why even do it, right? So I took a chance that if I figured it out once, I could do it again. I walked back to my now beloved MARTA station, waited for my train and woah! Low-and-behold! Randomly ran into a friend who was going too! To meet the same group at the same place...we both ended up at the same station at the same time to catch that train, too, neither of us knowing before then we had both planned to be there tonight. But somehow got there at the same time to catch the same train.

I love living in the city.

An extra bonus is that gentleman friend? Who I seriously ran into randomly on my way there? Also left with me at the end of the night too. And we seriously could not shut up talking the entire way home. Such an unexpected pleasure. One I could not have had alone if I had chosen to drive there -- in my car, alone -- instead.

So, yeah. I apologize, MARTA. You're not all that bad. You're even pushing GOOD.

I even talked with a nice lady on the way home from my appointment earlier in the day. She took the seat next to me and warned me about the panhandler who stepped on who (in her words) "is always on this route!" And we ended up talking about other things too. Just life, the Olympics, her kids...for all of my two stops. :) All of these places today were only two stops from home. But for those two random stops this time, I met a stranger and just *talked.* And we both even laughed once or twice.

How often do you do that in your car alone?

In a world where we just drive in our own cars from here to there and wonder why we can't meet new people or make new contacts? I'm beginning to love again the unexpected bonus a public transportation system can actually mean. To meet new people or learn how much you really like the people you already have in your life? Seriously.

I'm so going to use you more often, my friend.

My apologies, dear MARTA.

Next week I may even try your buses. *grin*

Maybe.

Writing just to write. Hope it works.

Ha! Leave it to my little brother to hold me accountable. He’s very rarely online, very never on Facebook and we don’t email or talk too often. Quality, not quantity with us. And, oh, he’s got me twice this week. Once in email and once on the phone just today:

"When are you going to blog again? I keep looking…."

Gak! And he’s right! It’s July for pete’s sake, which means my last blog was months ago already. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Once I stop, I feel like I have Absolutely Nothing to write about and it’s so hard to get started again. Which is what I’m facing right now, looking at this blank paper so to speak, wondering what on earth to say. So we’ll just say, I guess. Write and get something out so I can get the juices a-flowin’ for next time.

It’s been 14 months since I finally moved my sorry ass back into the city and I could not love it more. Sometimes when I’m just sitting on the couch watching TV, I’ll look up around my dinky little apartment with its crazy mismatched wall art and ancient furniture and giggle. Yes, out loud, I giggle. That this is mine (albeit rented) ; this space is mine, no matter the silly state of it. And sometimes I even kick my feet up and down on the ottoman in glee, then go back to watching TV, usually having to rewind (do you rewind a DVR? What do you do with it?) because I lost that entire minute to euphoria.

I love Atlanta, I love my friends, I love (most of) my life. The part I don't? But egads, I gotta tell you, kids: dating in Atlanta sucks. Or, I take that back: I’m just a passive-aggressive magnet, I think. I know plenty who date very successfully here. But with me, it's weird. Even folks who come on in a good way at first end up being that way with me. I. don’t. get. it.

Last fall I joined a free dating site to meet some folks. I wanted to meet someone, sure. But at the time too I thought it’d be something fun to blog about (I've since deleted that blog). But ohhh did I come up with some doozies then! Like the guy who told his kids all about me before he even met me himself. Or the uber religious one who took issues with me being a non-denominational Christian instead of an “actual faith.” Kid you not. You can’t make this shit up. Soon after that, I actually dated a couple folks for a little bit and recently have been spending social time with a fella I really enjoy, so I really completely forgot about the dating site most of the time. I never deactivated my account because I didn’t care enough to, frankly. I’d get email messages indicating when I’d get a private message and sometimes I’d glance over them, most times not. Never responded to any of them. They were mostly from folks who were nothing like what I said I was looking for in my profile and wrote things like: “Hello. How R you?” and stuff like that. Yeah, no. (What part about being a grammar nerd in my profile did you not understand? Oh! You didn't even bother to read it. Fair enough.)

But last week I got a message from an interesting enough fellow. He looked nice, seemed put together and used grammar correctly. So I decided what the hell. I wrote back and it was a nice exchange. He asked for my number but I suggested we just meet for coffee instead. I have found there is nothing worse than a huge build up of texting or talking and wondering if there’s any chemistry and then finding out after all that there’s not. Meet over coffee for an hour; see if there’s anything worth pursuing, right? And then move it to the phone from there.

So he happily agrees to coffee. It was to be this week (er, am I ruining the ending with the tense here?), sometime in the afternoon where I can take a break from work and just meet up somewhere. I said any day would be fine, just let me know. He asked about meeting for a beer after work instead, but I thanked him and told him my week was too crazy to meet after work. In reality, it was for two other reasons: I’m on a diet and didn’t want to make it a meal/alcohol thing, but more importantly, I also wanted an “end time” to this meeting: an excuse for either of us to get out of it after a brief meeting. If we liked each other, we could always meet again, right?

Yeah. Nearly every day since then, he’s asked if I wanted to go for a beer. Even today, on a Sunday (not sure why that's important, come to think of it but) he asked me if I wanted to go grab some beers this afternoon. *Sigh* No. No, I do not. I WANT TO GO FOR COFFEE. During the work week. For an afternoon break! Like I thought we PLANNED. Only now? I don’t want to anymore. And this may seem really obnoxious of me, to want to cut it off this quickly, but I’m bugged by it. What was wrong with the original plan? I don't understand. And how much beer do you drink anyway? (haha kidding, that's not a problem) When I politely declined today, I finally actually asked: "does coffee not work for you anymore?" And his response was: “yes, this week works.”

Aaaand that’s it. Nothing more, no plans on what day or where or whatever. I’m really sorry if it makes me old fashioned or whatnot, but I ain’t making all the plans on a first meeting. I suggested the idea in the first place (which, quite frankly, should have come from him, but okay....) and it was seriously a pitch right over the plate for anyone who might be slightly insecure or nervous too. Easy to answer, “great! I know a couple really great coffee places where we could meet. Is Wednesday good for you?” Or whatever. Not four offers to get a beer somewhere instead.

You know, I know it's worked for many o' folk, but I'm going to guess right now that I don't have much patience for a dating website. Deactivate time!

UPDATE: 2 DAYS LATER....TUESDAY AFTERNOON
Just as I was starting to feel a bit hasty....

Message: Want to grab a drink after work today?

Seriously. You can't make this shit up.

Friendship 101

I've been thinking a lot about friendships lately. Lord knows I haven't been as good a friend to some of those who have been to me, and maybe that's exactly why I've been thinking about friendship so much lately. Specifically just who has been there for me through thick and thin, good and bad, without asking anything in return. And how, wow. I'm so lucky/blessed/privileged/lucky (did I say that twice? yes) that they were. And still are. Even when I didn't appreciate it. Or, more so, reciprocate like I should have.

I really do understand now. I do.

But to be completely honest, I haven't always thought this way. And it's my own fault. I didn't always choose wisely. And when I was making those stupid choices, I know I overlooked those who were always there for me when I was obsessed somehow with the ones who weren't.

For example, I'd date people who would always join me on vacations or family outings, but then let me sit at home far away from my own family on holidays while they spent it with their own only 10 miles up the street. Or I'd be ~closerthanthis~ to a good girlfriend who never even thought to invite me to a family picnic or birthday party because it was, well, a "family" thing and I really wasn't family after all. I get that. I do. But it still hurt. And somehow I always let those things and those people upset me and hurt me instead of just understanding that's what it was and who they were and I should really just let it go and appreciate those on the flip side of that.

Because, since I've moved here (15 years ago today!), I have always had others in my life who did do just that. They were the ones who were right there to invite me to a family Thanksgiving and when I didn't feel comfortable going and understood would bring me over a plate of food on their way home just so I didn't have to microwave a Swanson dinner and eat it on my own. (Dear Quinns, I'm talking about you now, whether you ever read this or not!) Or they were the ones who knew when I lost my job years ago that were the first to call in sick the next day, jump in their cars that very night and say: "I'm taking you out; you're going to deal with that *tomorrow* instead" and drove out to wherever I was just to be with me and make sure I was OK. They are the same ones, to this day, that I know I can call on right now -- whether we just talked last week, have plans tomorrow or haven't seen each other for years -- and know will be there for me.

I see those people now. Why didn't I then? Why did I (why do we?) concentrate on the people who let us down instead of those who build us up?

I can honestly say that the people who have let me down over the years I've forgiven. If that's the right word even. (If folks are just being themselves, do they need forgiveness?) Amazingly, most of them are still in my life now and we do have relationships. I'm not sure I'll ever think of them the same way as I did back them when I needed them now that I don't anymore. (No. In truth, I never will.) But it's all water under the bridge. The thing that upsets me now is not them anymore: it's myself.

Because for as much as others have disappointed me, I must have disappointed other friends as well. Probably tenfold even. These are the ones who needed me when I was so fixated on others who were disappointing me instead. Who had their own lonely holidays or birthdays or life changing moments and I was so fixated on those who weren't there for me that I wasn't there for them.

I want to tell all those people that I'm sorry. I want to say I've changed.

And I do believe I have.

But saying is different from doing, so I'm vowing now to DO instead of say. It took me a long time to realize it, but I think I'm finally beginning to understand who are my bar friends, my now-and-again friends, my mostly-there friends and my always-there friends. And I'm truly understanding who and what I need to be for each of them too.

Because they are, afterall, all the same thing no matter the descriptor: my FRIENDS.

I think I may, finally, be able to pass Friendship 101.

Oh Atlanta!

I know, I know. I am constantly going on and on about how much I LOVE this city, LOVE my place, LOVE my life.  It's probably a tad annoying, I bet.  Usually when I read someone talking about something this much I actually doubt them.  Like, if you really liked it that much, do you need to talk about it so much? Are you trying to convince yourself that you do?

In this case, it's so...er, not the case though.  And you folks who have known me over this past decade and a half know it.  For the rest, I'll explain.

I loved picking up and moving to Atlanta - 15 years ago next month, actually. Wow.  It's not that I disliked Wisconsin or my friends and family there.  It's not like I felt an overwhelming need to go someplace else. I bet I could have been happy there, too.  But when that chance came for me that seemingly lifetime ago, I remember also not hesitating to just GO.  That although I had nothing bad to say about Wisconsin, there just might be something else out there and, well. Why not?

I remember telling my Mom I was thinking about going, and thinking about it now, knowing the "thinking" part was really already done.  It was just five months after my Dad died and I had been spending a lot of time with Mom just in that my siblings all were at college or with their family hours away and my apartment was only 20 minutes down the road.  We went to one of those Greek restaurants: you know, the ones that have the most awesome open-faced roast beef sandwiches?  And I sat across the table from Mom and halfway through the meal told her I needed to talk to her about something serious and life-changing.  I don't think she had any idea what I was going to say.  I don't think she even knew I had already flown to Atlanta for an interview and had an offer.  How could she?  We were still dealing with Dad's passing too, afterall.  I remember feeling all grown up and confident on the outside but still a little kid on the inside, hoping what I was going to say would make her proud of me and needing her assurance that I was doing the right thing.  I would be moving almost a thousand miles away, afterall.  Without a partner, on my own.

My Mom listened to my confident, rational voice as I explained the opportunity that had been presented to me and why I felt I needed to take it.  Looking back now, I know she probably also heard my fear and nervousness behind the bravado.  When I finished talking, she put down her fork, looked at me and paused for a moment.  And then said one word.

"Go."

It was all I needed.

So I moved here -- big girl now! Big city!  But I'd always lived on the outskirts of the city.  When I first moved here, I had an "Atlanta" address but was a good 15 miles or so from the real city and closer to the suburbs.  I was very close to work and that helped.  I was told that people often get frustrated with Atlanta because of the traffic issues here.  Since I didn't have to deal with that, I never experienced that frustration and instead found it nice.  It was like back home, kinda. Only with better weather.   And I was fortunate enough to actually know people here before I moved: two other colleagues who got offers, too; and friends I had known through an internet group (and, yes, actually had already met in person a few times).  I was OK. I was happy.  I was learning my new home.

But as the months turned into years and I started to explore my city, I realized I wasn't really a city girl.  Yes, my address actually said "Atlanta, Ga. 30341" and I took pride in that when I wrote letters home and scribbled my return address in the upper corner of the envelope.  But I wasn't really in Atlanta.  I wasn't that big city girl.  I wasn't Mary Richards.  Or even Rhoda for that matter.  

After a couple years, I got closer.  Got to a closer suburb with a great little rental condo and a job that sustained me.  Even got a boyfriend or two along the way.  I was becoming that single, amazing, independent city girl...but not quite.   And then the economy collapse happened.

I lost a job.  Moved in with a friend, got another job. But because of said economy, the commute was horrid so I moved even further away from the city than I had ever been before.  Learned to love my life there, but more out of necessity than really wanting to be there.  A couple years later, that company folded and I moved again: equal distance from that big city I wanted, but still in a place where I found new friends, enjoyed my work and had a good life.

But I still wasn't Mary.  I think the one thing always missing was that I really, really wanted to be Mary.  

Last year, it finally happened.  I found a job with a company that I know will not fold because the niche market we serve is thriving and that I actually enjoy.  I commuted from Way Far Out for a year just to make sure of it and then realized: it's time.

Through a friend, a year ago next week, I found the cute little place I'm in now, in the heart of the city.  And I became Mary.

It took me nearly a decade and a half, but I am now the Big City Girl I wished for myself when I sat across from my mom at the Greek diner that night.  On Friday nights, I park my car and don't move it again until Monday morning's work commute because I can walk everywhere I want: to restaurants, grocery stores, clubs. If I can't do that, I can walk all of two blocks to what passes for our subway system here and jump a train to meet friends instead.  I can throw a bag and the blanket my sister brought me back from Mexico over my arm, like I did last week, and walk the three blocks to Atlanta's "Central Park" (actually designed by the same family who did New York's, yo!) to curl up under a tree, read a book and take a nap. And I can have nights like I did tonight.

A friend told me this week that she was having friends over to her front yard tonight; she set out chairs and tables and bottles with colorful drippy-type candles. Bring your own beverages; I'll have snacks, she said.  I told her I was in.  Today, another friend told me she was "on her own" tonight and had nothing to do for a few hours. I responded: "well... let me tell you what's happening...."

All of us live within a few blocks from each other.  Because that's where I am now.  I'm Mary.  We're all Mary.

We gathered.  I saw friends I hadn't seen in years (literally, not figuratively) because I had been So Far Away.  But after champagne glasses and Leinenkugel-filled solo cups, the laughter and stories flowed. I didn't have to go to a bar or a club or drive to some remote location and worry about a thing.  Oh no. I had to walk *across the street* to a friend's front lawn for this gathering.  Because that's what you do when you're centrally located.  That's what you CAN do.... when you're home. 

And I'm finally home. :-)

A woman showed up tonight that I hadn't seen in a year.  She reminded me she still had the books I loaned to her then and didn't forget that she had them and would get them back to me.  I joked I knew where to find her if I needed them.  [Seriously, though: books are meant to be gifted to those who would love them. I don't care if I ever get them back.] A couple showed up tonight that I hadn't seen in probably four or five years, given my time So Far Away and I so enjoyed seeing them again.  My aforementioned friend who had had no plans? Is now out singing karaoke with the folks from the aforementioned front lawn and having a good time at, yes, another walking-distance bar from all our homes.   

So if I go on and on about how I love my life and how I love my silly broke-down apartment and love where I am and how life is now?  I'm actually not trying to convince myself of it.  I'm just that joyful that I can't keep it in.

I'm finally Mary.

I'm home.

God bless Atlanta.   :-)

BirthdayGANZA

It boggles my mind sometimes to realize that I have a group of friends who have been in my life for so long and still make me laugh as hard as I did tonight, already counting the days until we can all meet up again.

Born out of an internet Listserv of two decades ago (yeah, today's youngins would have no clue what that is) and at at time where we could say "we met on the internet" and got clueless looks as opposed to scornful or freaked-out ones, the chances of this not only happening but lasting this long is really nothing short of glee-worthy. And not that silly show. Sheesh! Who on earth would bond over a *TV show*, anyway?

I just got back from an evening with these folks. It was great that Aron had a birthday (er...13 days ago) that gave us an excuse to gather.

Some thoughts from the evening, before I forget them:

1) As I parked, I Foursquare-checked in (um, do you know me?) and to no surprise saw Phil was already there. The shock was that Jacki WAS too! Ohmygosh. Now, that would never have happened fifteen years ago. ;-)

2) Even Anne made it on time - with 3 minutes to spare! Holy cow! Do I not know these people anymore?!

3) One of the best lines of the evening came as we were discussing movies. Someone dissed on "Gladiator" and the response was: "hey, I liked Gladiator! (pause) But, then, I like movies about gladiators." Laughter ensued. I'll let you guess who that came from. [Hint: wasn't one of the girls.]

4) There were some tender moments, remembering and talking about lost friends. We're nearly 20 years older than when we first met, but we're still far too young to have to be discussing lost friends our age. Jacki raised her glass and sweet toasts to those on our minds.

5) Keylime pie was claimed for Stacy, for Spain, for France (that fork quickly fell over; go figure) and then got in our bellies. See photo above. France is obvious. :)

6) I'm apparently vertically challenged. Aron's the oldest of all of us. Viggle is going to be Jacki's and Phil's newest obsession (you're welcome) and the quest to find the first weeping angel is on.

7) BBC really needs to have us for their marketing team. Seriously, wouldn't Oods make a perfect string of Christmas lights?

8) Scott is by far one of the most clever, funniest men I have ever met. No wonder he and Jax have just celebrated their 15th Anniversary and still going strong. He makes me laugh like there's no tomorrow and we all know there is one. Well, at least until the end of the world comes in December, that is. What's wicked cool is he makes himself laugh too. I SO tried to capture him laughing uncontrollably tonight (it was something about a pie. And it's love for me. I think. Heh. I think I'm finally understanding it, actually).

9) And, no, Phil, I did not find a Democrat in the Kroger parking lot and turned him in. I know we Republicans can be brutal, but we haven't started roundin' up our opponents for exportation yet. (But thanks for the idea! I'll start talking to my people.)

10) One of the best things about the evening (well, for us; probably not them) was all the evil glares and glances, the "evil eye" half the group got when walking out the door. Yes, because we were loud (hey, it was already loud in there) and we laughed uncontrollably. Repeatedly. I guess in the future we *could* ask for a private room (or they'll just learn to put us in one), but my joy from this doesn't come from annoying others but realizing that, deep down? Their annoyance was probably rooted in a little envy. To look at a table of six very different, very unique individuals who were not drunk, not even really that obnoxious, and think: wow. What an amazing group of friends that must be over there. I wish *I* had that.

Because it's what I'm thinking right now too. I wish everyone had what we had tonight.

The greatest thing for me tonight is that I had not one drop of liquor while with them and I still laughed so much my side kinda hurts right now. :) It's that "good hurt" - you know, the one your personal trainer will tell you you'll feel the next day and you pretty much just want to punch them in the face? Yeah, that. It was only as I was driving home did it occur to me to think they might have thought I had a DUI or something and that's why I wasn't drinking (gasp! Stacy not with a drink? OMG, things HAVE changed!). ;-) Haha. No. It's because I knew I didn't NEED it with these people, these amazing friends. And I AM often insecure enough that I DO need a glass of wine, a cocktail or two to loosen up. Not with these folks. I love that.

(Oh, and, shit, let's face it: I could NOT have been on my game with Mr. Scott up there in #8 if I had been. Too friggin' clever for his own good, that li'l shit is.)

The thing is: with this group, it doesn't seem to matter how long you've been apart or the ups and downs you've been through or anything else: it's always like Coming Home. And this was one homecoming I had truly been looking forward to and wanted to remember every moment of so I could write it now, here. The whole drive home, I had a grin on my face. And the little geek in me couldn't wait to get home, even if it meant having to leave them, just so I could post pictures and write about what a lovely, lovely evening I had. Because I never want to forget.

Thank you, my companions, my friends. I'm looking forward to many more of these in the future.