It's amazing the things you learn about yourself as you age. Or maybe it's just the sort of things you come to accept.
For instance, I used to think I was anti-social. But, upon careful review and consultation with others of my general demographic, I've realized, I'm about average. None of us, it seems, really like parties all that much.
It wasn't always that way, of course. However, there needs to be a little qualification. At the time in my life when I was enjoying parties, parties were a little bit different. For instance, they lasted about four days, were closer to bacchanals and typically involved someone riding an office chair down a winding staircase wearing a football helmet, because, well, Safety First.
Now, recovery time is a little longer, things are a little more sedate and my interest has somewhat flagged.
Which is sort of bad news because, given it's wedding season and we've had some matrimony-related news of our own recently, there are a lot of parties are our horizon. And these parties, pleasant as they may be and as thrilling as what they represent is, are coming at us pretty fast and furiously.
So, couple the fact I'm somewhat ambivalent about social gatherings with the reality that my dance card is a little more full than I'd like, and the result is you're reading the musings of someone on the horns of a dilemma.
I can either look forward to trying to gracefully eat a cupcake (hint: there is no way), evaluate the relative merits of salt and pepper shakers versus salad tongs as a bridal shower gift, or stand on a ladder while the folks responsible for decorating for the event direct me to move whatever it is I'm holding to the "right right no left, now up a little, no back down ... ."
Or I can develop a defense mechanism so foolproof and devious that it allows me both an opportunity to participate to the degree I want and still keep track of who is leading the Masters.
And after years of coming close and falling just short, I've developed just such a mechanism. I run errands.
Yeah, I know. Sounded a little "rock and a hard place" to me, too. Except that either the rock or the hard place was covered with too much frosting and made a mess on the floor.
Or at least that's what I thought until the Lovely Mrs. Smith dispatched me to run a party-related errand and I had an epiphany. I was driving, by myself, in my car as fast as I wanted (within reason). I was taking whatever route I wanted to go, changing lanes as I saw fit, listening to my music on the radio, turning the AC up as cold as I wanted and parking wherever I wanted to back it in.
And all I had to do was heft about four dozen cupcakes (again with the cupcakes!), maneuver four large balloons that spelled "LOVE" into back of an SUV in high winds and determine if KC or Memphis-style barbecue sauce would work with the catering. (Went with KC. Did not regret it).
In that moment I discovered all those years of complaining about having to run to the store, the dry cleaner, the post office, the wherever, were just me not fully understanding myself. Or that errand-runners are fueled by necessity, a sense of duty to their family and a large order of fries squeezed in between the drugstore and the dog groomer.
Running errands is the equivalent of mowing the lawn. On a riding lawn mower. With a cup holder. And the Cardinals game on the headphones. It's an oasis cloaked in a chore, wrapped in a "honey-do."
Of course, it's not all fun, games and not having to hear about it when you go the wrong way down a one-way street. When it comes to the sorts of parties I'm a regular at recently, Pinterest is not my friend and most of the chores involve collecting and transporting foods and decorations that remind us all that weddings are for the bride. Sort of like going to the store for feminine "products," except you don't get to use the self-checkout.
But all that fades into minor distraction when you're whipping down the interstate, the Pearl Jam channel on the radio, a waffle fry in your hand and "only" a few more stops to go.
That's when you realize that, in a world of uncertainty, you may have a few things figured out.
Commentary on 04/13/2018