Let's Talk About...

OK, gotta post. No one wants to stumble on my blog and have the first thing to read about be my nervousness regarding my upcoming annual exam. I'm a survivor (and I'll be reminded of that as I listen to Destiny's Child elaborate on that via headphones while the nurse practitioner pokes and prods in all sorts of uncomfortable ways).
Anyway, life is grand, grand, grand. In the shower this morning, I smelled like chlorine. I really like when that happens. I mean, not smelling like chlorine, but that next-day reminder of time spent in a pool. I'm still not an uber-fan of appearing publicly in a bathing suit, but I'm getting over it a bit. Hey, if I hadn't back in February, Rudy and I would not be secret lovers (according to our fabulous friend, Miss J). I'm afraid none of us really looked like supermodels, but who even cares?
So last night's pool party was very fun, as usual. By some miracle, it didn't rain! I only stayed in the hot tub for a bit, because things got a little uncomfortable when Jacob H started asking for foot massages (and giving them out as well). Touching is creepy enough to begin with. Touching in a hot tub=no good at all. But AFK III seemed to enjoy it, so there you have it. I ended up sitting with my friend Jacob D(1) (as opposed to Jacob D(2) who writes an excellent blog, with a link posted to the right) and having a laugh at the ridiculousness of young, single Mormons together in a pool.
Of course, even better than the activity itself was the weirdness on the way home. Pammy was privy to this bizarre birds-n-bees talk I had with little Jacob H. This was awkward because I honestly have NO experience with that, so I feel like I'm not really in a position to advise, EXCEPT that J knew absolutely NOTHING about girls. Seriously. It's really refreshing to meet someone with that kind of naivete, but I really don't know how he hadn't absorbed at least some of this information along the way. I suggested he read "The Act of Marriage" and make sure he talks to the fiancee, and that was my best advice. He told me later that he was glad we talked about it because it's nice to have someone to give him the info in a non-gross way. Guess he couldn't talk the the male roommates, ya know? Only problem is I don't know his bride-to-be all that well, and I'm wondering what poor Victory is going to think of J's "older sister type" friend. Oh well. I've done my part.
Also last night I talked to Andrew. Man, I love that guy! I was organizing some old email (both sent and received) recently, and I couldn't believe what a big part he plays in my life. I guess it shouldn't be a big surprise. I mean, he and Nathan are quite possibly the reason I'm not married, as I've never known any other men of their caliber. Anyway, we talked and laughed and started to tentatively schedule a future visit. I'm excited. I really hope it comes to pass. I'm so happy that I get to be the one helping him for a change, and I'm thrilled at the prospect of having him stay twice in one calendar year. Speaking of calendars, I already got him his Mucha for 2010. I'm pretty in love with having that in common, even though my love for him takes the form of hero-worship or platonic ideal more than anything else. I wish I were a beautiful Mucha girl, framed in art nouveau mosaic background. But talking to Andrew always makes me feel closer to that goal somehow.
And now, I must be off. I have soooo much work to do! Not only am I swamped in office stuff, I'll have to race home tonight to play domestic diva. Remember that episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory dresses up as Donna Reed at Babette's and fixes dinner for Dean? Yep, you can pretty much imagine my evening now. Except Jeff and I are playing Ward and June Cleaver. I'm making meatloaf. He's building the shelves (cross your fingers!). But the house is covered in boutique projects midway through completion, and I've got to clean while the meatloaf bakes, and set my hair in a 1950s flip (I think I'll wear the navy blue dress and some pearls). Dinner has to be on the table early, and I don't know how I'll get it done, but the key to being a good television housewife is to make it look simple. Never let 'em see ya sweat, even if you are advising your little friend on the facts of life.