It’s been a really long time since I sat down to write up some random stories. It’s not that I don’t write – Every day, I write about mobile apps, pest control, plastic surgery, resorts, safety eyewear – I wrote a blog about blogging. I read and write a lot at work, and I’ve gotten really, really good at knowing random Jeopardy answers.
In the meantime, in my personal blog that isn’t a travel blog, a college blog, an engagement blog or a mommy blog, the stories of my 23-yo life have slowed.
But I’m locked out of my apartment and camped out at Panera right now eavesdropping on a bad first date, so let’s do this.
Ryan and I surprised the kids on Halloween by flying to California and being at the kitchen counter when they got home from school. “Surprise!” It was the first time I’d been home since February and the first time Ryan and I had spent more than 50 hours straight together, or at the very least, spent 50 hours within 30 miles from each other. The mix of “will we still make our flight” (selfish hurricane worries), travel and a head cold ensured that 24 hours into our first five day vacation together, I’d get a massive cold sore to make me entirely unkissable. Sigh.
What were we?
That is the question.
That, and we’re nerds. And it was his idea! Nerdmates foreva.
California was beautiful, and on the way home, we met a friend.
It’s not everyday the person you sit next to was a Fulbright Scholar, has a PhD, went to Juilliard, is a composer, has worked for Microsoft (and others), has worked in executive positions in the government, corporate and higher education worlds, is researching and writing a book on higher education… I’m about a third of the way done. Cancer survivor. Runs a bible study. You know, just your basic average joe.
Also, Ryan’s and my new friend. And we talked for three straight hours.
And by straight hours, I mean no beats were missed. Not even for the safety demonstration.
Picture it – Our friend in the aisle, Ryan, me at the window. The flight attendant facing us two rows ahead.
Conversation keeps going between the men. Talk, talk, talk – there’s no stopping it. The flight attendant gives them that evil look as she teaches us how to buckle – but Ryan can’t dare interrupt this gentleman, who’s friends with the governor and once played the Mexican anthem in front of an international audience, and the accordion for thousands of Katrina victims.
Talk, talk, talk. Evil stares from demonstrating flight attendant. I nervously shift in my seat. Talk, talk, talk. I make eye contact with flight attendant. Eye contact with friend. Flight attendant. Friend. Yes I’m paying attention. Yes I’m paying attention. Yes. Yes. This is getting hard.
And then she walks over to us, and goes, “You’re going to know WHAT TO DO, RIGHT?”
But it was one of the greatest conversations to be a part of – of course, Ryan and I would crack up later. 1st question asked by friend to us was if we were married (he’d later say, “When you get married, I’ll play the organ at your wedding” and tell Ryan “If you ever need a diamond, I know a guy”).
The 2nd question he’d ever ask was if Ryan worked for NASA. Because Ryan was wearing a NASA shirt.
“Nah, I just liked the shirt.” Only hours later would we realize of course the natural question from this established, wonderful, highly successful man was to assume Ryan had worked at NASA.
Not found the space shirt at Target for $9.99, and boy oh boy do we like space. “I just liked the shirt.”
Our new friend would invite us to his friend’s restaurant opening two days later, where we were promptly whisked from our table to the VIP room in the back. Where we met a renowned tai-chi master. Where we witnessed karaoke in Chinese.
Where we were told to “come see Buddha” and this happened.
Up and down the street in Troy we paraded, me as Buddha, him as the front end of a dragon with a 12-year-old as the enthusiastic butt. Up and down and up and down as I stressed out in my Buddha head that no one told me what to do but “You lead!” and the eyes of 20 people from ages 8-80 who probably have a better cultural grasp on the history we are representing watching my such-a-clumsy-white-girl dance moves.
But it was really, really fun.
On Saturday, we went to a wedding. Someone asked Ryan and I when we’re due.
“You know, due for a wedding – not a baby. You’re too skinny to be due.”
Oh, the things that make me laugh three days later because I swear they only happen to me.
Anyway, that’s all the news from here. Tonight I ended up in the waiting room full of people with the flu. Unfortunately, I probably left sicker than I am, due to my being there during post-work, walk-in, crazy-flu hours for a troublesome mole – something I wouldn’t normally broadcast, except that the end result is my referral to the monthly “Lumps and Bumps” clinic, which cracked me up for being a real thing.
That’s it from here, though I think I’ve now dubbed this in the meantime era as “Adventures in Nerd Dating.” Where we spend our Sunday afternoons at the science museum and planetarium and Monday evenings playing glow in the dark mini golf before watching Contact.