I guess I forgot to grow up

The other night my friend J.D. came into town with his wife. J.D. is a miracle worker, and I'm truly grateful for him. Not only did I get to see him, but he brought together a group of people I haven't seen in 8 years or more. It was amazing.
The funniest thing that happened that night was when my friend Jason said, "So, Rachel. What's your story? Are you married? Do you have kids?" It was a good thing I wasn't drinking anything, because I'm sure I would have sprayed the whole table. I don't even think the fact he thought Morris was my husband (or at least, someone did that evening) was the shocking part. No, the thought of me married was just unfathomable. Not to mention raising the children. I can't have children! I'm just a child myself.
But then I got to thinking, "Hey, wait a minute. Almost all of my friends are married." And those close friends who aren't yet are well on their way. Wes is getting married in October. Nathan is taking the plunge in December. Reuben told me yesterday he's getting married in January. So not everyone thinks this is such an out-there concept. I guess it just never occurred to me that I should get married. And I know that sounds unbelievable, considering I used to want to be a wedding planner and I've helped enough friends plan their receptions that I know exactly what mine should look like, down to the Solidarnosc candy as favors. And I know I even joke about proposing to Andrew, and proudly proclaim I'll date 100 boys before I can get married. But I'm in the 80s now-- and it's getting closer. Or it should be. But aren't I like, 16 years old on the inside?
The weirdest thing is, I don't think this realization is going to propell me into some other action. But I guess it never hurts to be a little more aware of what one's limitations and phobias are.

An Orwellian Metamorphosis

On Tuesday mornings it's my job to feed the animals at my parents' house. They have four sheep (we just sold twelve!), a rooster, three hens and a dog. The dog eats chicken breast my mom cooks in the pressure cooker. She lives in the house and feels strongly she is above all the other animals. It makes her so angry when I feed the "lesser beasts."
When we first got the sheep and before we had the hens, it was just Rusty the Rooster hanging out in our field. And before I figured out how to solve the problem by feeding the sheep their hay first, they always tried to eat Rusty's chicken scratch. It made me so mad, and I was worried he'd waste away. When I fed the lambs first, they'd leave Rusty alone long enough to get some grain and everyone was happy.
That is, until my dad brought home three little hens to, um, keep Rusty company. But I guess he's been alone too long and is getting old and grumpy because now that the sheep are off doing their own thing, Rusty chases the hens away and doesn't let them eat until he's finished. It's all very rude. He's turning into a pig on two legs. I've told him there's no room for chauvinism in the backyard, but he's so prideful. Doesn't he remember that not long ago he was scrambling for any attention at all?
Rusty has taught me a valuable lesson-- and strengthened the resolve of an epiphany I had last night. I kind of remembered it wasn't that long ago when my life was different, and I don't want to turn into a bipedal pig just because things are kind of going my way.
And finally, a moment for Artie. Artie, my scorpion, is now dead. It would be easy to blame him for coming into my house in the first place. My initial attitude was that it served him right, as the whole thing was his fault. But Hahni was right. I could have turned him loose and saved his life. Hopefully the other Artie in my life, and my relationship with him, fare better.

He's so Rufus

This morning, for whatever reason, I decided to clean out my inbox. Mostly I was able to delete without hesitation, but I reread a lot of the old emails. I found the experience very similar to rereading my journal from seventh grade... rather embarrassing, yet enlightening. I also realized that I must be pretty easy to impress. A little attention goes a long way. I had stacks and stacks of messages from the last several boys I've been most interested in. They have little in common except they rushed me with communication overload at first, and in my naivete, I found it intoxicating. I still really appreciate when that happens, but I think I look at it through a slightly different lens these days.
Anyway, life is super good. Yesterday was completely frivolous and enjoyable. I woke up early, went running, and then went to the zoo with Lou and Sasheen. I love flamingos. The girls were thrilled to see a polar bear dive into the water. Albuquerque rocks.
Then Lou and I dropped Sasheen off at work and went to T.J. Maxx, Hobby Lobby and Michaels. I'm getting some serious Halloween fever. A little pal is making a costume for me. Everyone cross your fingers. Then Lou and I went to see "Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End." I found this movie entertaining, but the ending a little less than satisfying. And hello! A little racy for a Disney flick. I think I'm also a little sad that the ride equivalent at the Disney parks is being changed to accommodate the movie. Don't get me wrong, I love Johnny Depp as much as the next goth girl, but still. I'm a purist. And while they're at it, bring back "America Sings!"
OK, so then we went to FHE and then on the way home I had a nice little phone chat with my dear friend Andrew, otherwise known as my hesitant fiance. We're still hashing out the details of our pending marriage, but I may be winning him over. He still thinks he and our friend Nathan have to join the armed forces and go to war. Well, ok. And we still have that escape clause for the next two years while Andrew keeps his condo his primary residence. He finally moved in last night, and I hope he found his own home as comfortable and hospitable as I did.
Other than that, I now feel compelled to say with vim and vigor (and sincerity) that my good friend Jen is the bomb diggity.
Yeah, life's good.