Sangria, Shoes and Sex & the City

Not necessarily in that order... For anyone who reads this blog religiously (thanks Mom) or was sitting on the edge of their seat this weekend waiting to hear whether or not I chose to have a tattoo inked upon my person - I did not. Never fear however, I have not chickened out...I simply thought it best to spend a bit more time deciding exactly what I want and where...I'll be taking suggestions from anyone who feels compelled to do so. Shoes: Welp, Friday night my friend John taught me to play horseshoes. That's right, I now know how to play horseshoes. For those of you who have been deprived of this honor - I shall now empower you with the knowledge of horseshoes. The Basics: You need two metal posts. Four horseshoes (if playing with two teams of two). How To Play: Throw the horseshoes at the posts. Try to hit it. If you're lucky enough to get it to hook around the post - you're cooler than others. Special Note: You must throw the shoe at the designated metal posts. Repeatedly hitting the telephone pole will not win you any points. My favorite part of learning horseshoes was the dirt. Near each post is dirt. I don't know if that's standard or just Stacy and John's yard. But I liked the fact that your hands get dirty when you pick up your shoes and that by the time you're done your boots are covered in dust. I hold out great hope that I will one day...hit the post. Or throw it farther than two feet. That'd be cool. Sangria: My friend Sarah and her husband Jon are moving to Baltimore at the end of the month. Sarah and I have been friends since High School. Saturday I drove up to Grand Rapids for a visit with her before her move. For dinner, she took me to San Chez. This place is fabulous. If you're ever in the Grand Rapids area - I highly recommend it. A Tapas restaurant, we chose five different dishes - all brought to us with excellent timing - and shared them along with a pitcher of Sangria. Sangria is now my new favorite drink. I am determined to find a good recipe that I can make myself. So if you have one - please let me know. Sex & the City: After a pitcher of Sangria, Sarah and I took a walk around down town Grand Rapids. For one reason or another, the streets were quiet. We decided to head home. When we got back to her apartment, Sarah threw in Season 6 of Sex & the City - the one season I had yet to see. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte are the friends I've always longed to have. And even with my newfound respect and love for Arizona...I missed New York City just watching it. The streets, the people, the never-ending possibilities for any given night. But something was different. It seemed almost cryptic that we sat there watching the last episodes, Carrie leaving New York City for Paris while visiting because Sarah had a departure of her own coming up. And we were sick. We had started drinking after our buzz wore off and that my friends, is never a good idea. I felt slightly nauseated while Sarah felt like she had aged 25 years in just a couple of hours. It was only around 10 o'clock. Which made us nervous. "Are we old?" I asked her as we sat on the couch, too tired and unwilling to go out for more drinks. "Yes," Sarah said, defeated. "We are." To be honest...this bothered me. I thought and thought about all the years that had gone by since Sarah and I had become friends, living just two apartment buildings away from each other. All the things I'd said I'd do...that I didn't. All the places I'd say I'd go...that I haven't. I thought about all the things that Sarah and I had in common when we were younger. "We're on the same level", is what we always said to each other when we agreed about anything. Are we old? I thought about all the nights I'd spent sitting out on a deck, drinking beer and watching the sky. I thought about weddings and birthdays and cookouts and dinners. I thought about my quest for honesty and for a life that had more substance to it than what I've given myself so far. We talked about children. I wondered how much time one really has before they should start having them. We made mention of certain friendships. We proclaimed ourselves tired and once again declared ourselves old. But I didn't want to give in. It seems so easy - to want to be what others want you to be. Easier than just being yourself. It is the essential challenge, I think. I remember the first time I ever smoked a cigarette. I had always lectured my father when I was a child for smoking. He quit when he had a heart attack. The first time I ever smoked a cigarette - it was for all the cliche reasons - the illusion of it making me "cool", pressures and all that. But also - a form of rebellion. So before bed, I stepped out on the back terrace of Sarah's apartment and I smoked a cigarette. To get back that sense of rebellion. Am I getting old? Hell no. I still gotta get my shoe around that post.