Grown Ups, Too

I'm trying to become better about blogging again.  Tonight, this effort coincides with being in Boston and being able to catch up with just a few of the friends that I mean to see here.  More specifically, I had dinner with Dwighters.

The thing I love about Dwighters is that on the one hand, we're technically both Harvard graduates (ha), who have lived in Boston (and now Baltimore, for me) for years, who read books, and to an extent, have an affinity for culture.  On the other hand, all of it still feels like we're playacting.  Perhaps having jobs that technically pay but not a lot has something to do with this.  We react to the thought of me buying carafes or him infusing liqueurs in mason jars with laughter.  How bougie.  And sure, we went to a nice, new Italian restaurant, but we also rolled our eyes when the waitress tried to sell us on pickled radish seeds (seriously?  not just seeds, but pickled seeds?).  And one of us may not have known that the breadsticks were not for display.  My point is, even as we are all trying to act grown up, it's fun to make fun of each other for trying.  And for the world's failure to recognize our efforts.  Like when the waitress placed us at the farthest corner of the restaurant possible, with at least four empty tables between us and all the real patrons.  It's always nice to have low friends in high places.  

They Wouldn't Eat Wilson, Would They?

Lisa, upon seeing this picture: I thought we were going to eat this tomorrow night.  How can I eat this now that you've given him a name, a backstory, and a little sock bunny that depends on Paul?

Yes, now that my life is completely suave and well adjusted (remind me to tell you about the time my face blindness was so bad I didn't recognize my office mate- as in the one other person I share an office with), this blog has shifted its focus to Lisa and her absurdities, but that was the funniest comment I'd heard all day. 

First Rule of Fight Club

You can share your secret sadness, and people would offer to pray for you.  You can share the harsh words you did or didn't mean to say, and someone would tell them they've done the same.  Our Tuesday night Bible study (newly termed 'Mount Awesome') is generally a safe space of acceptance and support, a place without judgment or wrong answers-- that is, until you answer an ice breaker in a way that breaks from the norm.

Last night's ice breaker was "shark vs. bear vs. eagle, who would you rather fight?"  (there was also a serious one, I promise)  A lot of people used terrible logic to justify their choices.  Esther, for example, chose to fight a bear because "bears are cute" yet because Esther is sweet and new, no one pointed out the absurdity of her choice.  But somehow when I shared my answer (bear, because the fight would probably be shortest and I'd die a death relatively quicker than fighting an eagle or shark), the whole group turned against me for my defeatist attitude.  Apparently it "wasn't what the question asked," and I was "taking the easy way out."  It was the most hostile reception* I'd ever received at a Bible study.  These people took animal fighting and hypotheticals so seriously (just kidding, PETA,  we love all of God's creatures!) that they expected me to give it my all in a fake fight, even if that means having my eyes and entrails slowly pecked out by a hypothetical eagle.  I guess that's the type of attitude one picks up from having a lifetime of hypothetical friends and hypothetical pets**.


*a thousand times more hostile than the general stink eye Livid Lisa usually sends my way

**never seen Lisa*** with another friend, pet, or family member

***not sure when this blog devolved into a Lisa burn book, but I like this new direction

Burn After Reading

Apparently my poor note taking skills aren't limited to handwritten notes.  Electronic ones can be vague and confusing as well.  What is list of people and what do I want with them?

Et tu, Greg-eh?

There are conversation fault lines that everyone knows to avoid for the sake of friendship.  For some, it's politics.  Others, religion.  For still some others it's finances or childrearing.  Among my B'more group of Jesus friends, it's ice cream cake.

It's an issue that has staunchly divided the group along mostly regional lines (East Coast vs. West Coast, Carvel vs. Baskin-Robbins), and an issue we have spent countless hours arguing bitterly over.  Yet like bugs drawn to the lantern, we can't help ourselves.  Every few weeks, someone inevitably picks off the scab and each side would dig deeper into their beliefs.  Or rather, we did until last night.

The conversation started innocently enough-- I had mentioned to Stephanie and George, a sweet and lovely couple unmarred by our infighting, that we had ice cream and cake.  But Lisa, agitator that she was, saw an opportunity to bring up ice cream cake and drive a wedge through the dinner party.  At first, it looked like her plans would fail.  Stephanie and George, as sensible people, agreed that ice cream cake was best a la Carvel, meaning they agreed that ice cream cake was best as ice cream in the shape of a cake and not-- [spit on the ground]-- a mixture of ice cream and cake.  For a moment, this meant that Lisa was the only one on the wrong side of history last night.  Until suddenly, she wasn't.

"I think...," Greg started sheepishly.  It almost looked as if the poor, misguided soul was compelled by lecherous Lisa to speak, "I think I'm a convert to ice cream and cake."  And just like that, justice lost another member and the alliance of Lisa and Greg grew ever stronger.

It's hard to pin down, Dear Readers, just what part of Greg's conversion made for the greatest betrayal-- whether it was that Lisa's wiles had contaminated yet another friendship*, or the revolting realization that someone I once trusted could find the mismatch of melted ice cream and stale cake preferable to the harmony that is chocolate and vanilla ice cream nestling a sweet layer of chocolate crunchies.  All I can tell you is that they are two sides of the same coin, and each side cuts equally deep.  Grey's Anatomy once said that without forgiveness, old scores are never settled, old wounds never heal.  I guess that's why it takes a group committed to living like Jesus, to coming together week after week, to take on the topic of ice cream cake.  

*friendship may be too strong a word... "small group proximity associate?"