A Different Kind Of Weekend

This past weekend was more than a little jarring. Following the events of Friday, four of us gathered at Moonie's apartment to eat pizza and drink a toast to the coworkers that had left that morning. It was a much-needed hour of relaxation after the most tense morning any of us had experienced in quite some time.

After dinner, the Admiral and I headed to tango workshops with Miriam and Leonardo, the champions of Superstars of Dance. After three hours of classes, I headed home exhausted and feeling much, much better.

The next morning, I was up fairly early and picking up my rather pregnant friend for the ladies' spring tea at church. Two hours of breakfast, girl time, and chatting about decorating (no, seriously -- that was the speaker's main topic: decorating on a budget) and I headed home for lunch before skipping off to tango again.


It was later, after the workshop, heading home to dress up a bit, and as I was standing in one of the coolest buildings in town, waiting for the Admiral and Kathleen, that I made the observation that my life is quite different than it was three years ago.

Three years ago, I did nothing artsy. I was an engineering student -- that was all. My living space was small but I didn't need more than that because I was never there. My friends were almost all within ten minutes of each other. I played soccer and ultimate Frisbee. And if I went out to eat, my choices were to order food OR order a drink.


Now, I have my own apartment, my friends are all over the world, and I can order a drink just so I have something in my hand while I'm waiting for people to appear. I paint, sew, knit, write, and take tango lessons. I can go to England for a wedding and hang out in gilded buildings to eat Chinese food and watch dance showcases.

Life is very different. There is very little going on now that I would have pictured before, than would have even occurred to me before. So much is different, in fact, that I'm not really sure what I had in mind back then ...

Perhaps that's all part of growing up. Or maybe things are just that good, even when I don't think so.

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