Back to Philadelphia

These are the best three weeks of my summer.

I haven’t been inspired to write much this season. I think that per season, Spring definitely takes the record for most entries. After the D word landed on my platter, and I undertook the job from hell, somehow my introspection and frequent New-York themed rants and ravings suddenly abandoned me. But the time has flown since then, and I have very little to show for it. But as Baller so eloquently phrased it, “shit’s going good for you now.” And he’s right.

Last weekend was Tree’s bachelorette party, which means that next weekend is her wedding. At TT’s wedding in May, it seemed like I had a year to plan for this one. Suddenly, it’s next weekend. And I haven’t done a thing. OK, I suppose it isn’t fair to say that I haven’t done ANYTHING. I dropped my bridesmaid dress off two weeks ago to be altered. And when the Vietnamese seamstress looked at me with distress and uttered, “There just… no enough fabric” I did something else. I immediately lost eight pounds. I haven’t eaten since then. Maybe it’s thanks to my having chosen to work at a place that encourages starvation as a legitimate form of self-control, (it’s the only company that I know who basically dictates that both a gym membership and mental health visits are mandatory) or maybe it’s the thought of being the fat bridesmaid that kind of makes a person lose her appetite…but either way, I’ve spent many long nights with my friends at New York Sports Club. Hopefully, in wedding pictures at the very least, it will show. (I haven’t been back to pick up the dress. I’m afraid of facing more disapproving sighs from my seamstress.)

Tonight, I’m headed back to Philadelphia (land that I love) to see MY BOYFRIEND Chris Carraba at the Dashboard Confessional concert. It’s Tree, T-Lyons and me part two. Last weekend, B-Party, was somehow just not enough drunken debauchery to sustain us. In pictures, included above, someone who wasn’t there might mistake the bride-to-be for the most drunken fool at the party. One would be wrong, as Teresa hasn’t touched a cocktail in the six years that I’ve known her. Another component of the shadiness that imbues her. (Discounting the bongo-drum playing that took place at one of the bars, I think the fact that she seemed worlds more intoxicated than the rest of us, stone sober, speaks to the reasons we love her.)

I also spent quality time with TT and her new husband in their new house. It was perfect, as all things TT are. And we made plans for the first of what may be many Thanksgiving traditions of cooking the dinner ourselves. Gasp! (My family is threatening another retreat to the wooded mountains of Blackwater Falls Virginia, which for all intents and purposes leaves me running, screaming in the direction of anything that isn’t that.) But I’m excited to have my first grown-up holiday. I guess one of the bi-products of divorce, is getting over the fact that you have to grow the fuck up. I’m over it now.
There was a moment, while planning this Thanksgiving undertaking; that T and I glanced at each other and asked, “Can you cook?”

“No, can you?”

“No.”

Well this should be interesting.

A week from yesterday, Paige and I will be taking off for the wedding. Rehearsal dinner Thursday night, wedding itself on Friday. I’m as excited as I’ve been about anything recently. And if the bachelorette party was any indication, I’m right to be looking forward to it. It’s always fun, I guess, to reunite groups of college friends (and funnier even are those who were NOT friends, i.e. K.J. and yours truly, who had to be kept from knifing each other the entire weekend) but for some reason this group is especially entertaining. It could be the spirit of shadiness that Tree likes to bestow on any situation in which she finds herself, but I digress. There will definitely be stories.

I’m leaving in a few hours. I’m only halfway through the three best weeks of summer!

Have a good weekend!