"Welcome To The Real World She Said To Me"

On Friday night I attended my sister's orchestra concert. The show was great. And predictable. Like every Pops Concert before, the show ended with all three orchestras performing Stars and Stripes Forever. And just like every Pops Concert I had played in, as the last section of the song began, in full FORTE, they dropped the American flag. So patriotic.

I knew it was coming. Every year as I stood in the orchestra pit playing those very notes, I couldn't look at my friend Abby without laughing. Laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it. At the audience clapping along, goofy grins plastered on their faces. It was always a riot.

As I sat there watching my sister and laughing to myself, I realized how weird it was to be on the other side. Watching, not playing. That was me up there from fourth grade till graduation. Hours of practice, countless concerts and one amazing trip to Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti and the South Pacific. And for the first time in a long time, I longed to play in a group again.

Afterwards, we all filed into Cafeteria A for cookies and juice. As we pushed through the double doors I felt like John Mayer should be playing in the background. It was all so familiar to be back there, but also so strange.

Had it really been only seven years since I last walked those halls?

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Flashback

I head the song "Free Falling" on my way into work today and it reminded me of a post I had written before this blog existed...


I was driving home from work yesterday with my iPod on shuffle when Tom Petty's "Free Falling" came on. I was suddenly transported back to senior year of college.

Scene: It's the last night of Greek Week. We're at a highlighter social in someone's beach house. Music is pumping, black lights are glowing and everyone is dancing. Scrawled across my back is the requisite "Moelle" as well as numerous suggestive adjectives written on every other conceivable area of my wife beater.

Elle and I are dancing on a futon. Below us is a sea of Greek life, including uninvited girls from another sorority. We try to ignore the obvious tension caused by their presence, but it mixes in the air with the cigarette smoke.

We've been shaking and shimmying for a good hour, our drinks occasionally splashing over the sides of our red Solo cups as our feet slip in between the cushion and the planks of the futon. We're sweaty, tipsy and having fun.

As the bass fades away from the last song, the first strains of "Free Falling" begin. The crowd cheers. It's an old favorite. Elle and I grab each others hands and start to sing and sway. I look down and see the crowd swaying in unison. Hands are in the air and everyone is singing at the top of their lungs.

At the base of the futon is a girl from the other sorority. Shes singing along and looks up and catches our eyes. A mutual understanding passes between us and her. We can all get along. What the hell? We grab her hands and start singing together. She whips out a highlighter and writes "[her sorority]+ ZETA" on my torso. I scribbled "Free Falling" on her back. You're ok? I'm ok. We're ok.

In between the music and my pink-punch haze I realize that this is the perfect ending to the perfect week to the perfect year.

Elle and I hug. We both know this is symbolic of the end of an era. In a few weeks we will graduate and leave college behind.

But for now, we'll just keep on dancing.

So I Guess This Is Growing Up

It was really nice to have Boobeski come visit. The minute she walked in the door it was like we were right back at 38 BP. After catching up we immediately started reminiscing about the beginning of our friendship. There were a lot of "I can't believe I did that" moments followed by lots of laughter. How is it possible that we've been friends for almost six years?

As promised, the evening included good food and good drinks with Michael and his friend from work. The four of us laughed and talked (I'd like to say late into the evening...but it wasn't really that late. We were tired...we work now!) and had a really nice time.

The next day we went shopping. And while I didn't buy any shoes, (I know, I'm shocked too) I left with a nice assortment of...work clothes.

Work clothes? What's happening to me? When did deciding what to wear to work become more important than finding a cute top to go with those great jeans? When did I start putting the fabulous coat back on the hanger because I should really use that money for Christmas presents? How did professionalism, practicalism and fiscal savviness creep into my life without me knowing it? And why is it showing its ugly face while I'm shopping?!

Sure, I'm not old. My boss will read this and say, "you're so 23." But to me, this is change.

Last night I took a late night run to CVS. Late night errands always remind me of college...Wendy's, Dunkin', Cumberland Farms...and I was feeling nostalgic for my friends.

I went in and headed for the sign marked Hosiery. I inwardly groaned as I walked down the aisle. Hosiery. Hosiery? Hosiery! I haven't worn stockings since, I don't know, middle school? OK, maybe not that long ago but I really couldn't remember the last time. I don't wear stockings. Grown ups wear stockings. I am not a grown up.

But despite what Glamour says, I cannot get away with bare legs all winter at work. I'm fair skinned. We're talking super-light. Bare legs + winter = legs look like a cadaver. Let's not even go there. Plus, I'm always cold. If I want to continue to wear adorable skirts and dresses, stockings must make an appearance.

So there I am, standing in front of rows and rows of various colors of hosiery and completely stumped. What do I buy? What is the difference between Off Black, Soft Black and Black Mist? It look me 15 minutes to pick out two pairs. Fifteen minutes. Seriously.

So here I am, pondering where my adolescence went and wearing my stockings and crossing my fingers that I don't put a run in them.

I can totally see a quarter-life crisis in my future.

Happy Halloween!

In honor of Halloween, I thought I'd share a little bit of my Halloween history. For your viewing pleasure, a look back at me and Dani...because it's just too funny!

Here we are as a witch and a.....I don't know if we ever figured out exactly what Dani was. A weird, Halloween thing. Actually, a few years later we both went as a weird Halloween thing. But she pioneered it this year.

As usual, all you can see in this picture is my huge mouth and non-existent eyes. And no, the hair is not real. Although after ringing the doorbell at one house some woman started stroking my head and asking if the hair was mine!







Here we are as Dionne and Amber from Clueless. This photo was taken exactly 10 years ago today. Don't you just love the tan colored stockings? What you can't see is the super trendy clear plastic platform Jellies we were wearing. What I remember most vividly from that night was stepping into a giant puddle and having wet and steamy plastic Jellies for the rest of the night. Ewww.

Haha, oh man. Miss you Dani!

Happy Halloween!

Swish

When I was little I used walk around our property collecting the long, brown pine needles that fell off the trees. I would wrap them in a leaf and tie them with a long piece of grass. Then I'd go in the back yard and scatter them, pretending I was feeding chickens.

That's a great childhood memory for me. As soon as I smell that warm pine scent I'm transported to that time.

So imagine how happy I was to pull into the parking lot at work the other day and see those very needles all over the ground. I opened my door and took a deep breath, inhaling that yummy smell.

But imagine my disappointment/frustration/annoyance when I came back to my car at 5 p.m. only to find that it was the ONLY ONE in the lot completely covered in pine needles. Completely. As in, my car was now brown. And spiky. And....needle-y.

And it had just rained. So those suckers weren't going anywhere.

I cleared off my windshield as best I could and started the ride home. But the roads were wet so I had to intermittently use my wipers. And one lone needle was stuck on the driver side wiper.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle getting bigger.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle IN MY WAY.

It held on the whole way home until I pulled it off in the driveway. Maybe it's life's way of telling me I'm grown up. As a child I only saw the good things in life. Now some of those good things can be a really big pain in the butt.

I miss feeding those imaginary chickens.

Dani California

You know that friend? The one you've never had a fight with. The one you spent countless hours with as a kid playing "teenagers" or recording a radio show. The one that was Stacey from the Babysitters Club (because you were Claudia) and whose mom always had a plate of carrot and celery sticks with ranch dressing.

The friend that introduced you to Ace Ventura, Hot Shots! Part Deux, Clueless and of course, the Babysitter's Club Movie.

The friend who you used walk with to the A&P to buy a can of icing, two cokes and a jumbo Hershey bar. The friend you would sit next to watching Full House as you stuffed your face with said goodies.

The friend who you would pool your change with, then go get slices of pizza, not realizing until years later that you would totally short-change the waitress.

The friend you would go tick-or-treating with, then attempt to play poker and use your candy as chips. Even though you would just share everything anyway.

The friend you would play Hudson Valley-Opoly with at 2 a.m. until you got yelled at by her parents for laughing too loudly.

The friend you sat next to on the couch and made a pact that even though her parents said they had to move, you would plant your butt firmly on the floor and tell potential buyers that there were mice in the house.

I have that friend. She's one of my best friends, even though I don't get to see her as much as I'd like to. The friend that never judged, never said mean words and always made me laugh.

That friend is getting ready to embark on a new and exciting part of her life. Moving all the way across the country. I'm going to miss her like crazy.

Here's to you, Dani California.

I love you!

Changes

There is a very good possibility that in the next few weeks Jen will be moving 25 minutes away. I know that 25 minutes isn't very far, but what's getting to me is that things will inevitably change.

I am so used to living 3 minutes apart and there's something really comforting about dropping by her house whenever, helping myself to something in the fridge and reading a magazine before taking a nap on her couch. Her family is my Rhode Island family.

So while I really am happy for her to move out of her house and get an apartment, I can't help feeling sad. It was hard enough having all my friends leave after college. I didn't want to go through that again.

And yes, I'm being a tad dramatic because as Jen says I'm just getting that RI mentality that 25 minutes is far away. But it is far when you factor in the above.

I know we will still go out drinking, judge karaoke contests, shop at Marshalls, go for walks and stay just as close friends as we are now. It just won't be as frequent.

And that makes me sad.