Until February 3rd, Jake had never seen musical before.
People singing just makes him feel uncomfortable. It always has. On the flip side, I love it when people sing. Actually, I prefer when people do. Talking is boring.
I grew up watching musicals and never sports. Jake grew up watching sports, but never musicals. Every time I watch a musical on television he leaves the room and every time I try to watch a sporting event, I fall asleep. Last year, Jake’s employer invited us to attend a baseball game in their suite when we first moved to St. Louis. I spent the entire time utterly captivated by the nacho cheese squirt machine in the snack bar.
What was supposed to be a grand, long night of shenanigans ended as a leisurely dinner eating cheesy cauliflower. We were home by eight and I fell asleep by ten, watching Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha have a much wilder night than I.
Last year I wrote a post called “31 Feels Like Getting Really Excited About Trying Out A New Broom.” Upon moving into our new house, I found myself getting really excited about using a new plunger and figure the same applies to 32.
When I was young, my parents used to warn me that time flies infinitely faster when you get older. I thought this was weird and didn’t believe them. If there’s anything I do know with every fiber of my being, it’s that time does pass by faster when you’re older. It just does.
If you drive and have never moved to a different state, there’s one thing you probably take for granted.
Your drivers license.
When you live in the same state, you simply renew your license and plates mail. When you move, it’s a different story.
My friend recently compared owning a 100-year old house to caring for an elderly person.
“Can you remind me, again, why we bought a 100-year old house?” I asked Jake as the downstairs banister fell off into my hands.
Some things don’t seem to change and sometimes that’s a good thing.
Technology, fashion trends, seasons, seasonal latte flavors, these are all things that can change. But my favorite Chinese buffet? I don’t mind so much if this stays the same.
In high school, the Highland Park area of St. Paul was the place to meet, at least for our groups of friends. Jake and I didn’t go to the same grade schools and wouldn’t meet for many years to come, but we both gathered at the Highland Park Perkins, Caribou, Jimmy John’s, and Cleveland Wok back in the day.
Finals week and that break between the ending of a school day were special times where we piled into someone’s car and headed to Highland Park. We like to imagine that we crossed paths at some point.