So not to potentially jeopardize anyone’s job, I have decided against writing extensively about my commencement week experiences gardening at the Emily Dickinson House and–far more scandalously–a certain president’s house (where we had to use the bathroom on the bottom floor. Ahem).
But I will say these things, because they are certainly positive:
I drank from his spigot (which just happens to be one of my favorite words).
I ran through his sprinklers.
I played with his amazing dog.
I picked lots of maple trees.
I learned how to identify Creeping Susans/Jennys.
The flowers were BEAUTIFUL.
And I got to work with Carl and Seguin, both of whom are wonderful.
12:30 A.M. - After watching a final episode of Design to Sell (I basically spend my time here watching HGTV and judge shows, like the People’s Court) and checking my wall on The Facebook one last time to see how many new wall posts I have—there are three—to make sure that there are people in this world who love me (because, really, how else would I ever know?), I finally go to bed in my 4-year-old-cousin’s playroom, separated from Tammy, my cousin’s adorable kitten who meows sweetly and often in attempt to gain my attention, only by a glass window. Despite the distraction and my desire to walk out onto the patio and love her a bit, I fall asleep, an alarm on my cellular telephone set for 8:30 A.M., a reasonable time for waking and what I assumed to be an early enough time to expect to begin to get ready for my cousin’s birthday party (her birthday was actually in March but I aunt did not want to deal with the Buffalo snow messing up her white carpets, so she planned a summer party that just happened to fall on my birthday), though I am unaware of the actual starting time.
2:20 A.M. - My cellular telephone, set to vibrate, begins to, well, vibrate. The screen reads, “Restricted,” but unless it is a wrong number, there is only one person who it can be: Aaron (not that one; he’s at camp and doesn’t love me enough/isn’t inconsiderate enough to call me at that hour. This Aaron is a friend from high school). The conversation is 1 minute and 17 seconds long, but (in retrospect) it feels a lot longer. He tells me that I’m old and probably some other things and then he tells me that I sound like I was asleep and that he will let me fall back asleep now. (This has happened before. Last time, he called me at about the same hour and convinced me that if he is not married by the time he reaches the age of 29, I would marry him. I He turns 23 in November.) I thank him, hang up, and do just that (sleep). Kinda.
2:59 A.M. - My cellular telephone, set to vibrate, begins to, well, vibrate again. I have a new text message! It is from Paul, a friend from UMass whom I have begun to think is avoiding me. (It turns out he probably isn’t because sent me a text message!) He wishes me a happy birthday, and I reply thanking him very much. Then I silence my phone, knowing that I should probably try to get some uninterrupted sleep until 8:30 when I plan on waking up.
~6:30 A.M. - I am awakened by my cousin’s screaming. (I have no recollection of about what she was screaming, but it can’t have been anything worthy of all that screaming; it never is. Except when she got stung by bees, but then she was brave and screamed a little in the beginning and then stopped.) I drift in and out of sleep until
~7:30 A.M. - My aunt needs to go get her hair done, and she needs me to bathe and watch my cousin. So I do that. It does not feel like my birthday. But I guess that comes with getting older anyway.
The party is indescribably cute [and in Amherst, NY (which is a suburb of Buffalo—and the safest city in the country—that makes me sad not to be in the real place)]. It is a fairytale princess tea party. All the kids are 3 or 4. Around 12:30, all the kids need naps and start going crazy.
Now I’m back at the house in Buffalo with the spotty internet. A large part of me wishes I were home so I could hang out with friends I haven’t seen in a long time and probably still won’t see for quite a while since I leave for Ireland two weeks after I get home, and so I could go see the Leah Randazzo Group (and most importantly Paul, who texted me at 2:59 A.M.) at the Blue Note tonight, which would be a wonderful birthday treat. And a large part of me also wishes I were back in Amherst, MA, where so many of the people I love most live within walking distance. Instead, tonight, my aunt is taking me out for dinner and a movie. I’m not yet sure what dinner will be, but the movie will be The Dark Knight. Good stuff.
Also, now that I’ve written something, I can finally bring myself to write that piece on gardening at the president’s house for a week and maybe another that I’ve had up my sleeve for a while.
la la la la la la
la la la la smurf
