Sept. 12, 2003
Scattergories
When I was in high school, my friends and I liked to gather at each other's houses on weekend nights to play board games. We liked word games especially. Yes, we were all honor students. No, we didn't date.
Anyway, one of our favorite games for a while was Scattergories. This is a game in which the cards contain crossed categories of things, and the players have to shout out things that belong in both categories. The people who keep shouting the longest win, basically. I haven't played in a while, I admit, but I think I'm remembering the rules correctly.
One night I particularly remember, for some reason, we were all over at Colleen's house playing Scattergories and making daiquiris. Except that they were actually virgin daiquiris, since most of us didn't drink at all (did I mention that we didn't date?), and we really only managed to break Colleen's mother's new blender (did I mention that we were honor students?). At one point Colleen - no, wait. It doesn't make sense unless you know about Colleen.
Colleen was the closest thing our group had to a "bad girl." She smoked, drank, and often alluded to drugs, sex, and cutting herself. (As this was high school, it is highly possible that not much of any of this was actually going on, but that was her chosen identity at the time.) Often, Colleen's role was to roll her eyes, sigh, and act worldly, which she did very well. (Her dramatic looks - pale skin, red lips, black, curly hair - helped a lot.)
So, going back to the story, we were all sitting around the table in Colleen's kitchen this particular night, and people were starting to get sick of playing the game. (Not I, though, it must be said. I can be a bit competitive, and I don't like to stop playing any game at a time when I don't feel that I am winning.) The topic turned to other things we might do, but, truthfully, there was just not that much to do in Fredericksburg, VA in those days if you were under 21, didn't drink, didn't do drugs, and therefore did not get invited to parties. We considered going out for ice cream, but we didn't feel like it, we thought about taking a walk, but that seemed like too much effort. It seemed we were stuck with the kitchen table and the one round of virgin daiquiris we'd managed to make before the blender had broken. Colleen, with a weary sigh, said, "Oh, this is so sad. There must be something we can do besides sitting around, thinking of things that are yellow and start with the letter 'x'." Now, Colleen had made this up purposefully as a ridiculous example, so everyone laughed and went back to trying to think of something to do. But about twenty minutes later, in the middle of another conversation entirely, I suddenly banged my fists on the table and blurted out, "Xanthophyll. Xanthophyll!"
Those high school board game days seem far away to me now, but when I saw Scattergories on Kelley and Allison's wedding gift registry, I knew I had to get it for them.
I threw a wedding shower for Kelley and Allison last weekend. It was really the first time I'd had occasion to do something like that, and I was very pleased and gratified by the way it all turned out. I always think throwing a party will be fun, but then I get all nervous about it and worry about doing everything the right way. I always have these ideas of what I think will be fun, but I worry that other people will think they're lame. (I did spend most of the weekend nights of my high school years playing word games, after all.) And I do so fret over etiquette. Inviting the right people, inviting them in the right way. Remembering names. Having enough food, having enough drink, without completely breaking the bank account.
Luckily, I didn't have to do this alone; my friend Nancy agreed to co-host the shower with me. She has a cool house, perfect for parties, she's a professional caterer (whereas I know how to make exactly four servings each of two main dishes), and she said she'd been wanting to throw an engagement party for Kelley and Allison, anyway. Nancy took charge of the food, I took charge of "fun ideas" (I have to admit, I'm quite proud of the customized guitar picks I found online; they were very, very cute), we corralled various boys to help us with grilling and set-up and such, and we were good to go.
The shower went very well, and I'm glad; everyone seemed to have a good time, and Kelley and Allison were genuinely touched by everyone's gifts and good wishes. But the thing that surprises me is how invested I became in this party and how much I suddenly felt like a grown-up. I've always kind of felt like the child in any gathering - you know, the one who's funny and can lead a sing-along but who's completely worthless when it comes to helping out in the kitchen or pitching a tent. All of a sudden, I was getting compliments on my chocolate raspberry bars and requests for the recipe, and they felt like the best compliments ever. I'm still not a great hostess, don't get me wrong; I still couldn't remember everyone's names, and I never would have been able to plan and prepare actual dinner for 60 people the way Nancy did, but it surprised me how much I wanted to be a good hostess. I've never been into domestic stuff, and I'm more likely to tell everyone to bring a dish to my birthday party than I am to plan a menu and decorations and all that. But I really loved throwing that shower. I really enjoyed it.
Continuing the hostessing trend, I'm having my very first dinner party on Sunday night. My friends Lauren and Scott are expecting twins (twins!) soon, so I figure I should do my socializing with them while they can still make it out of the house. Lauren and Scott will be the first people I've ever officially invited to dinner, and I'm very excited about it. Again, it's weird. I used to hate cooking. It was an irrational hatred, and I recognized that, but I would seriously freak out if I got anywhere near a cookbook. Suddenly, I'm really enjoying learning how to cook tasty, nutritious dishes, and I'm honestly excited to be able to invite my friends to dinner and finally reciprocate the many times they've had me over to their house over the years. I even picked up some non-alcoholic sparkly cider so that Lauren can drink with us. See? I'm abandoning my traditional Court Jester role to play Considerate Hostess. On the one hand, part of my brain is watching all of this, going, Is this really me? Where is this coming from? On the other hand, I vaguely suspect that this is part of a larger change in my life.
Turning 30 has done something to me. It's changed me more than I expected it to. I remember when I turned 20; I was so excited, all day. My day to day life wasn't due to change anytime soon - I would still be in college for another two years - but it still felt like I had turned a corner of my life and would never go back. My teens were over. My childhood was over. No one could ever make me go back to high school. Even though the future was unknown, it was going to be different from the past, and that was enough. As my mom would say, it felt like a new chapter. Well, turning 30 feels the same way. I don't know why. I can't explain it. I just have a feeling that, this time next year, my life will be completely different than it is now. I don't know exactly where I'll be or what I'll be doing. But I don't think it will be exactly this. A new chapter is opening, and I'm in the process of writing it every day. Figuring out where this new strain of plot is headed. Hoping I can fit the main character I've come to know and love into the new story without changing her too much.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on these cookies.
What’s in my stereo at home:
What’s in my car:
What's in my CD player at work: