I've committed the cardinal sin of back-blogging. I started this notepad file of stuff in my wireless-less weekend and posted it all at once, just now, under the dates each was actually written. Please forgive me.

Home was loving and comfortable and warm and green, wedding was pleasant, couple was happy. It was held on the estate where my government teacher grew up, with the parties in the barn. Bluegrass band and barbecue. Ton. O'. Fun. Awkward moments:

My mother's cousin knew some lawyer dude who is moving to DC, just after I've gone, and she was all, shucks, we both missed out on a great opportunity. She gave me his vitals, and I can only assume she gave him mine. In fact, she did mention, when she told him not to call the number they'd already given him, "That girl is really cuuute, smart as a whip, I'm sure she'd love to show you around the city." Pause. "But you know, I think she might actually be a liberal."

Options: A) Lie. Nono, I've come back to the other side, ready to "subject myself to the man's authority," a la the sermon.
B) Agree, yesyes, I am an urban-dwelling, baby-killing, pagan, pseudointellectual snob. And that makes your hot establishment lawyer not interested? Perfect. I'll just go back to burning in hell.
C) Evade. I get along with all types of people.

I'm not really the outsider, but sometimes they cast me that way. Which is maybe why my aunt, mother of the groom, the one freaking out over music selection, kept seating me next to the bride's brother, getting his Ph.D in clarinet performance in the far far north. We dark horse middle children who flee the rolling hills must be made for each other. Unless we, you know, swing the other way.

On second thought, a conversation with a friend made me think perhaps I should be glad they're picking the inappropriate ones if there's going to be the slightly embarrassing elbowing, how'd-it-go later.


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