Recently, I had a conversation with a co-worker about trying new and different things. This desire to participate in activities other than the norm was inspired by the fact that I am in a rut of sorts. She and I agreed to do at least one thing per month that was outside our comfort zone, or in my case, my zip code.
So, thanks to Facebook, I was invited to a dinner that included people from my old hometown of Miami. It seems this lovely social network has made it possible to detect, track, stalk and then invite folks who are only being polite, to share a meal. I received my invitation from an old neighbor, that I actually liked, so I agreed to go. I also figured it was mid month and my time to do something new was running out (especially since said co worker went to a museum over the weekend).
My high school years were somewhat successful. I managed to make decent grades in honors classes, I sang in the school chorus and had an occasional boyfriend. I didn't wear braces, wreck my car or get caught skipping school. I considered this acceptable and hoped the other folks that were on the guest list would agree. I scanned the list of invitees and when no arch enemies appeared, I agreed to go. For moral support, I enlisted my sister, Vampgal, and my brother to go with me. In typical fashion, he bailed at the last minute and Vampgal and I were left to fend for ourselves.
We arrived at the home of classmate and were greeted by three lovely women. Instantly, a glass of homemade sangria appeared in my hand and pictures of children, theirs as well as mine, appeared on the table. We exchanged pleasant conversation, an occasional laugh, one or two stories of unemployment and a lot of "do you know what happened to" and "do you remember". The house began to fill with other folks from SRHS, all showing signs of aging with hair that is greying, children that are leaving the nest, waistlines that are expanding and stories of parents that are dying. This group would've never sat at the same lunch table in high school, but here we were, sharing the same table some 30 years later.
The night was uneventful, non threatening and enjoyable. I managed to accomplish my goal for the month and even exchanged phone numbers with a gal that I fully intend to have lunch with. Vampgal survived knowing absolutely no one and my brother didn't miss a thing because the girl he was so interested in catching up with was a no show. Even City-girl, my co-worker, said it counted even though it wasn't as cool as the museum.
Now, what to do next month?