The main thing you should take away from this post is that I'm not at the Sony Ericsson Open in Key Biscayne. Because every year I turn on ESPN and see it and think, Oh, yeah...I totally wanted to go to that. But by then it's too late.
So I'm in Connecticut. Where apparently it's going to snow tomorrow. And into Friday. 6-12 inches. Because this winter is trying to fucking kill me.
But it's Spring. It's definitely Spring. I know this because the ants are back. They come crawling in from my kitchen back splash area every Spring. I used to stress out about it...you know, like what it said about my self worth or whatever because apparently that's all it takes for me to call such things into question. But I've come to understand it's just a charming quirk of country life in a crumbly old house. Like going into a shop slash converted barn to buy very expensive pottery and being met by a handwritten note that says just leave the money on the counter. Or having someone give you a blank check for hay they're buying from you and telling you just to fill in the amount once you decide how much you want to charge.
Technically, those last two things have never happened to me-- I just have the charming country ants-- but they happened to a nice lady I met at a big community discussion my friend organized and invited me to this weekend. Okay, the shop slash converted barn is also poetic license, but it's exactly what I imagined while I was listening to the story and odds are it's true-- on account of all the barns.
So I went to a community discussion on education this weekend. It's not the kind of thing I would ever volunteer to go to because obviously other people would be there and I'd have to talk to them as part of the "discussion" part. Plus, based on recent mail from a certain university, I'm not quite worthy of being educated and, consequently, will never be an educator.
So, you know. But my friend took the trouble of inviting me-- personally. She didn't just sent some group email. So I went.
Well, first I went. Then I left. Then I went back.
Because there was no agenda. I just knew that it started at 8. So I arrived at 7:55-- to minimize the odds of having to make small talk while I waited for things to start. The Constable (We have very bossy old Constables who show up at every event in town to aggressively tell people where to park and hold up traffic while people cross the street-- or think about crossing the street-- or approach the street then stand and talk for an unreasonable length of time.)insisted I park where I really didn't want to. I'm not a skilled parallel parker.
Inside the caterers were just getting set up. The room was mostly empty, but some gal with energy I didn't care for was holding court so I left after promising her I'd come back when things really started at 8:30. I promised the Constable, too. Because he needed to know. So he told me he'd save the parking place I didn't want. And he did. With an orange cone.
This is a totally boring story isn't it? Sorry. Just let me tell the part about the blue dots because it perfectly illustrates what an ass I am. I mean, you can probably already tell with my huge attitude toward the Constable and random stranger, but here's where everything really goes off the rails.
So the second time I go in, way more people are there-- all in line getting food and eating at big round tables. I just couldn't escape the unstructured part of this event-- it's like they waited for me. Anyhow, I'm greeted by someone I actually know-- someone I like, but am not technically a friend of, as I'm a total mental patient and she is not a therapist. I believe we've talked before about my preference for friends with training in the mental health arts.
Right, so this very sweet, pretty person, who is universally liked, says hello at the name tag table and, instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person, I grill her about the blue dot on my name tag. All the name tags have dots, but all the dots are not blue. And I'm so worked up because I'm out in public at something called a "discussion" for which I have no agenda, that I'm suffering paranoid delusions.
Winning! Tiger's blood!
I didn't end up even being in the blue break-out session. There were too many of us so I volunteered to go to yellow. Even though I hate yellow. And here's the thing. The friend who invited me-- the one who was also an organizer of this event-- yeah, turns out she had gone through the trouble of hand selecting the blue group for me. Seriously. There were people in there she thought I'd like. Can you imagine? They must have been total freaks! So fantastic! I can't believe I missed it.
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