Friday night was Chris's birthday party. He turned thirty-five, so he declared his candidacy for President! He is running on a platform of "Birthdays for everyone and getting down." I don't see how it can fail. Chris wore a blue velvet suit and a red-white-and-blue tie, to show the voters that he is serious about his campaign. He didn't wear a flag pin, though, so the voters have questions about his patriotism.
Saturday night was Margie and Amanda's wedding reception. They were beautiful, of course, and it turns out Margie is the heartfelt romantic, the one who tears up when they repeat their vows. Margie! I thought she only cries for an elegant spreadsheet or a well-designed fishscreen.
Sunday, my sister and I had friends over for dinner. Chili and cornbread, salad and peach pie, out on the back porch with a fire in the chiminea. It was so very nice.
Sherry, here's the thing. Chris's party was fun, but I've had the same reaction at the last couple parties I've been to. I already know how that evening goes. I hate to sound jaded and I am psyched to be invited, but truly, this party form has stopped offering me anything new. I know what it is like to enter the party and I know what kind of snacks they put out and I know about the non-dj'ed music and I know about taking a break on the fire escape and I know about the brief pieces of conversation with new people. I love the idea of parties, but I've stopped enjoying the standard party format for my people. Part of me thinks this is the same frustration I've had in other parts of my life. Honestly, I'm pushing my late thirties. I am so freakin' tired of living a twenties lifestyle. I've done that for fifteen years now. It used to be exciting when someone got a new loft and invited us all over. But now I know what that is like. There's no learning curve.
I want to go to different kinds of parties. I've never thrown a one-year-old birthday party. That'd be new. Barbecues with kids running through in a herd would be new. Even going to a different party culture would help. Maybe Ethiopians know how to bring the party. Maybe a quinceñera would be more interesting. Maybe different people would throw parties with themes I can't imagine; that'd be fun. But standard parties, even with great people, now feel predictable to me. I can't believe I'm saying this, but it is getting old.
Part of me says that I want to move in to my next life stage and have new experiences, and then another part of me remembers how much the fundamental structure of my life does not change. During the week, I have been going to school or work during the daytime, coming home for dinner and then going back out to exercise since I was twelve. If something changes so I don't have evening sports, I get antsy until I search out a new activity and restore the routine. The stretches of my life that haven't been on this schedule probably add up to a year or two total. Weekends are still most familiar to me when I do house projects. (After the chicken coop, the order goes: front yard landscaping, outdoor shower, pond.) I've thrown parties or had people over for dinner since high school. Maybe I have some notions about moving into a new life stage, but really, the structures of my life and things I do are pretty impressively stable. I've never successfully shook those up. I don't even want to. I'm a mostly placid person; I'm not the type to up and move to an apartment in Hong Kong and immerse myself in a glamourous life of diving in southeast Asia between consultant gigs. I don't even want to. I just want my own good and comfortable life to evolve, get out of stasis, bring me new ways to be content and domestic.