All of my new (and old) best friends
Sometimes I'm all, "Hmm, self, how in the world did you get involved in this Blathering thing?"
I am not a party planner extraordinaire, with exquisite taste and grand vision, like EBJ.
People don't naturally gravitate towards me, finding themselves welcome and comfortable in my circle of hurts-your-stomach laughter, like Emily.
I don't communicate like Jennie, who leads with kindness and gentleness and clarity.
I don't think about the options, the details, the ways to improve, the ways to grow, the heaps of potential, like A'Dell.
I have absolutely no useful business skills (or amazing accessories), like Kristie.
No one has ever considered me instantly approachable and warm, like Manda, whose smile and tension-easing cheer fills a room.
But because those guys do what they do, I got to waltz into a gorgeous party last Friday night and discuss enneagram types and murder mysteries and yes I HAD seen the sign for the WWII museum in town. I went from recognizing barely any faces at brunch Friday morning (thanks Sarah, for matching the names to bloggers!) to feeling that let down sadness at the airport on Sunday because I could count at least five or six people I hadn't even said HELLO to.
I knew that going in. I knew I wouldn't be able to meet and chat with everyone. I knew it would be a bummer - for ME not for YOU, obvs - but man, I didn't realize how MUCH of a bummer. For most of today I've been wondering whether the fact that I don't currently have any expensive habits means I can start one, namely jetting about the country for long weekends all year.
(Phillip is away this week and unaware that I am busy distributing all his frequent flyer miles between Sacramento and Chicago and Austin and A Tiny Town and DC and OMG EVERYWHERE ELSE.)
Thanks for the Sazerac and the French75, the brownies for breakfast, the exciting news you shared, for laughing at my gnarly rug burn tale. Thanks for excitedly telling me your enneagram type, for the rides, for the stories that made me cry, for hugging me back when you're not a hugger (I knew and I hugged you anyway). I won't forget your FedExed dress or your amazing and generous sister or that thing your in-laws did. I loved sitting at that table with you. I already miss cheese fries, a stripe of glitter on my nose, all the conversations in beautiful courtyards. Oh, and thanks for not cuddling.
I'll see you all in Charleston next year, yes?