One Month

For the record...

Right now, I'm about halfway through that awkward transition month where one is at home after finishing up with the year of college, and before the summer really gets underway. Younger siblings still have a month of school left, the nights are still cool and that official kick off to the summer season: Memorial Day Weekend hasn't happened yet. (The kickoff for boat owners is a bit more specific: it's whenever that boat gets into the water. This year, that will coincide with Memorial Day Weekend, where I will get to watch my Dad fumble with the dock in his wetsuit for hours on end, swearing and dropping tools into the lake, before the boat can finally go in the water. Lucky me, this event is only about 4 days away.) Last year, I had this hang time between finishing up sophomore year and starting my internship at the Rutland Herald.

I've been home from the Foggy Town for 2 full weeks now, and I've gotten to see some of my high school friends, I've gorged myself on Panera broccoli cheddar soup bread bowls and sushi, I've stressed out over internship decisions that need to be made immediately, I've unpacked and repacked, unpacked and repacked. But it still feels weird. Last night with one of my dearest friends, we'll call her Y*, we were talking about how difficult it is to come back to the 'burbs after living in a big city for several months. Y* spent a semester in D.C. her sophomore year, on an exchange program with a university there. And I've just returned from one of the biggest and best cities in the world, to a little suburb of Hartford. And I don't mean to complain, because these are my last days living in Granby. But you don't realize how little there is to do in a suburban or rural area until you've lived the big city life. This is particularly true if you are under the age of 21 in the U.S....also if you are broke. I am both of these things. (This month and a half, between being able to legally drink in Europe and my 21st birthday next month, seems unnecessary and ridiculous.)

Think of the nights I could be out with my friends checking out the sketchy nightlife in Hartford and Springfield! Oh, the drinks we could have sampled! Instead, I spent Wednesday night with Y* and our friends M* and P* over at P*'s house, watching P* do shots of Sambuca, dance to a Paula Abdul workout video and then nearly fall into his bathtub while trying to reach for his Swiss Vanilla body wash that he wanted us to smell. Then he proceeded to teach us all about the difference between the habitats in his African and South American fish tanks, and we got into a good conversation about evolution. But just think: if I were 21, we all could have done shots of Sambuca in a bar, and rather than watching P* alone in his house, we could have watched him hit on people in the bar!

But anyway, for whatever reason, I'm excited to head up to the even less city-like atmosphere of Vermont on the lake. Memorial Day Weekend should be even more interesting than usual, as we will have two visitors for a couple days. I shall entitle it: The Memorial Day Weekend Boyfriend Extravaganza. On Friday, The Doddster will be gracing us with his presence, and it will be the first time that he meets the 'rents. Then on Sunday, after a long weekend of packing meat, my sister's boyfriend Matt will be coming up for a couple days. It should be a great time for all parties involved, except maybe Dad. When I heard that both of them were going to be up for a couple weekends, I told Katie that perhaps we should instate some sort of hazing ritual where both of the boys have to sleep in the guest room together, and we only give them one blanket and pillow so they're forced to cuddle on the futon together. (When I mentioned this to the Doddster in Syracuse last weekend, his first concern was about the legality of 'spooning with a high schooler.' I assured him that Matt is 18.) At any rate, it appears that they will be sleeping in separate rooms for the time they're both there. At this time next week, the Extravaganza will be in full swing. I may even have to keep a journal to make sure that I remember all of the events and witticisms and awkward moments for the next post. Then once that is over, I will have about a week before I head up to Burlington to start my internship at the Free Press...but that's another story for another post.