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Read the Goober Diary Archives
April 17, 2007:
Frozen Toes in the Springtime
I believe the first Sunday of the
Georgia Renaissance Festival was best summed up by
my friend Molly the Rose Wench, who dubbed it "the extended remix of suck." It snowed, people. In April!
We were most displeased. I don't know how many of you have tried to play a steel-stringed instrument when
you can't feel your fingers, but I can tell you it's not ideal.
However, the temperature is supposed
to resume its rightful upward climb into summer this weekend, so now I can confidently say that you really should
come out. We'll sing songs and eat cookies. It'll be fun.
In a few weeks, I'll get to go to
Mississippi (a state I've driven through but never really visited) for a Smith family reunion and
the 50th wedding anniversary of my Uncle Lewis and Aunt Shelby. Can you imagine? Of course, she was
only 18 when they got married, but still. Fifty years seems like a really long time to me. Especially
since Derik and I are already at the point where he tells me to go get my own damn pizza if I want one so badly.
(Ha-ha, just kidding! We're still newlyweds. Mostly.) I am really, really excited to see my aunts and uncles
and cousins again, especially now that there are babies and children involved who grow and change so quickly!
It's endlessly fascinating to watch them morph into different versions of themselves and to see my own
relatives in them. I remember my mother once telling me that she'd wanted to have at least half a dozen
kids, just so she could see what they would all look like. Obviously, my mother has a much
higher tolerance for small children than I do.
I suppose it's only natural that I should
wonder, at some point, whether I might want to have kids myself. However, the answer I keep coming up with
when I ask myself that question is, "Nah." I turned 34 in March, so it's kind of been on my mind, but it's
receding back into the buzz of possibilities as the milestone passes. Speaking of my birthday, it was great!
This year, I had a sari party, and my friends came over to my house, and we all dressed up in saris, bangles,
bindis, jewelry, the works! I was going to have a mehendi artist come and do everyone's hands, but I ended
up spending all the money that was supposed to be for the party on clothes for myself. Priorities, you know.
I felt gorgeous in my sari, and it was a great excuse to get dressed up and have some fun. When the host of
the Indian restaurant saw ten white girls in saris walking in the front door, he couldn't help laughing at us.
"Oh, it's sari night!" he observed. We went to a place in Decatur called Bollywood Masala where they play
Bollywood music videos on a screen on the wall while you eat. My friend Yvette says the lunch buffet is better,
but I loved everything I ordered, especially the samosas. I love a good samosa.
I feel certain that there have been
other things on my mind, but I can't conjure them up at this moment. I've become someone who comes
home from work, watches a movie or something, and then starts over the next day. It's the scenario
that used to give me nightmares when I thought the most important thing out of all of my goals and
ambitions was never, ever to become boring. But, you know, boring is peaceful. Relaxing. Kind of nice.
It's good enough for now.
What’s
in my stereo at home:
- America's Next Top Model playlist I
made for my iPod
What’s
in my car:
What's
playing at work:
What
I'm reading:
- I just finished The Twentieth Wife by Indu Sundaresan
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