It’s worth becoming a zombie for rather than give it up.
That’s the gist I got from this poem by Tim Pratt that was read at my friend/coworker Theresa’s wedding this weekend as she married her nerdy partner in crime, Matt. It’s the first time I’ve been to a wedding where zombies were referenced and court rulings were read as part of the ceremony (Goodrich vs. Dept of Public Health, specifically) and it was magically dorky.
The entire celebration was great – the sunny courtyard at the Liberty Hotel (formerly the Charles Street Jail), the delicious oysters and Italian-inspired dishes (hello veal!), the energetic dancing skills of young nieces and nephews, and the friendly folks all around who were glad to be there to share in the live music, the endless amounts of chocolate, and the overall love that filled the room. Not to mention the fact that there were 4 Sallys in the room – an all-time high for me, and a joy to dance “Mustang Sally” alongside.
Congrats, Matt and Theresa! I hope you never have to find out what you’d actually do if you were lost in the multiverse, but even in that eventuality, I know you two will be great together.
Read Tim Pratt’s poem “Scientific Romance Redux” here (I didn’t want to copy it and thus risk it being shared without proper credit!).
Cross one more grand item off the list: I have succeeded, along with class president Jimmy and some enthusiastic classmates, in throwing a blast of a 10 year high school reunion.
My goals for this reunion were simple, and we accomplished them all:
- DO NOT go into debt. We had leftover class money to spend if we needed to, but I’d heard that the organizers for the prior year had paid a pretty penny for their party, and I wanted to avoid having the people who spent the time planning the celebrations from paying the cost, as well. Conclusion: we ended up 90 cents short of breaking even, including decorations and promotions.
- DO make sure people outside our usual network hear about reunion and have enough notice to attend. Conclusion: we got a sign up a local marquee, shared the event with hundreds of people on Facebook, and a good mix of people attended (about 36 total)!
- DO set ourselves up to have a lot of fun, and not stress out. Once we realized that it was going to be a small party, Jim and I decided that if it was us and the DJ (a classmate), we would have the time of our lives, and the rest wouldn’t matter. We decided not to put a ton of extra work into things like decorations, and just enjoy ourselves before and during the party. Conclusion: setup was finished in 10 minutes and we all had a blast.
In short, it was a huge success. It had everything a high school reunion should – gossip about who wanted to go to the semi-formal dance with whom, shots of Fireball at extremely low NH prices, old yearbooks, a 2000’s-tastic playlist, amazingly friendly chats with people I haven’t talked to in years (and now want to be best friends with again!). The DJ, our classmate Tim, really killed the night with some key choices – “Time after time” at my request, “Stairway to Heaven” so we could slow dance as though it was our last chance of the night, “A little help from our friends” to remind us where we came from, and then “My heart will go on” to really set back the clock. Later, as the general public filtered in, we danced to “Summer Lovin” and “Footloose” in an homage to our high school productions. People stayed until the end, then took the afterparty to the one bar in our actual hometown and kept the party alive until well after midnight (for the uninitiated, midnight in NH is like 4 AM in NYC).
The whole experience left me incredibly grateful for my great childhood, my loving community, my smart and kind classmates. For every person not there, I imagined the wonderful adventures they were up to instead, and all the amazing places we’re going together and apart. But they know who they are and that they better be there next time (AHEM AHEM). Until then, I’ll pack my band uniform away, hold my friends close, and remember all the good times behind and ahead.
Onward to the next adventure! Check out the other items on my five year plan here >>
As I’ve gotten back into the world of online dating, I’ve had my share of awkward online interactions. (No, if chat is turned off, I probably don’t want to chat, especially if we’re a 30% match. And yes, I know I have a nice smile, I had braces twice and still wear my retainer diligently – but did you see that I also have an entire profile!?! Also… hi. Just hi. Apparently that’s a thing now, along with profiles composed 100% of selfies. C’mon Boston – you can do better!)
But nothing is more awkward than that moment where it’s just not quite clicking after a date or two – not so many that it’s worth a phone call or a drink to say goodbye, but just enough that you feel obligated to come up with excuses to not see someone again.
My work friends and wise sister recently convinced me to stop taking this wimpy option and actually tell someone that I wasn’t feeling a spark instead of fading away, and it was TOUGH. Finding the words, and actually sending them, made me feel like a giant jerk. But it also closed a door that I didn’t need to keep open (kind of like Tabless Thursday!).
In honor of the wimp’s way out, I bring you this gem that my mom made me watch this weekend as part of Garfunkel and Oates’s new tv show. It’s perfect. And I DO want to see it again.