May. 05, 2003 - 23:53:12
Dear Vincent,
My heartfelt sympathies in light of your recent fall into fashion faux pas sweater syndrome. This too, shall pass my friend but I've a number of lighthearted anecdotes and observations to sustain you.
Finally! The advent of strawberry season is upon us. A few days ago my neighbor offered me some strawberries when I was over there having tea. Having tea, that's right. Having tea is something everyone expects is outdated but is really very nice occasionally. Kristen (my neighbor) called me up and prompted me, without even saying hello, "Meg, would you like to come over for tea this afternoon?" Now Vincent, it seems that requests such as these are on the down and out these days- so what could I say but "absolutely"? So we sat on her deck drinking tea that smelled like pepper but tasted sort of spicy and eating the first strawberries I've had this year. It is my observation, that strawberries are like levity. Just when I expected I simply would not make it to summer this year the strawberries came.
Equally as cheering is a sort of habit/commitment I've come into on Friday afternoons. On Friday afternoons I meet a small group for coffee at this really great bread and coffee place in the pulse of town. I, who have always been early for everything in my life, am never the first one there. This is as endearing as it is surprising. I always expected that I enjoyed being the first person there. Getting the lay of the land and people watching over the top of my book. I have discovered, upon making a tradition out of being the second or third person there, that I do not enjoy being the first person there at all. It is not that I dread spending time by myself on occasion. I have simply realized Vincent, that I do not like to spend time by myself when I am expecting to be in good company. It is very exciting, to arrive and have someone who is part of good company be already anticipating my arrival. In the stale hours of Friday afternoon I find myself packed around a too small table with people it has not taken long to adore. Marc always seems a little flushed in the cheeks from smiling. He injects small wry commentary that sends us to pieces. Chris is slightly reserved and balances the hilarity with his steadfast commitment to complete kindness which is admirable. Kate vibrates when she laughs which is more often than anyone I've ever known. She speaks at light speed and is on her cell phone as frequently as any executive. She's so high paced but so sweet that she's impossible not to love. The other Kate is quieter but good at the one eyebrow raised look that can send any joke for a few more rounds of laughter. The one eyebrow look single handedly points out the ridiculousness of a situation. After laughing something threadbare what better way to wear it more fully than to laugh at the stupidity of what you're laughing at. And Emily, whose feigned indignant act is all too compelling not to provoke. The cheerful atmosphere occasionally yields to well thought out debate about this or that. Like most good things, I can't exactly remember what happened to spawn coffee Fridays but I'm glad it did.
Every Friday we all make it a point to drink something new. This particular coffee place has a plethora of coffee and tea related choices. We've solidly worked our way through the mochas, and dented into the caramels. Marc is concentrating single mindedly on the chi teas and the like. Depending on how something tastes we nickname it. This habit started when, over a month ago Marc passed an iced type white tea around the table. The group fell silent contemplating the tea. It was a curious mix of mint and peppermint and spice and such. For the barest moment, none of us could decide what it was like. Then, Emily's face lit up and she verified, "It's like Christmas!" And Vincent, if you can imagine- that was exactly right. I believe it is really called Malasian Melody- but in all seriousness everyone in my coffee group refers to it as Christmas.
And now for the British anecdote.
Robert and his girlfriend Megan (not I) and myself went down to a little town on the waterfront this weekend for a few hours on Saturday. We went down because Saturday was the historical reenactment day of the war of 1812. In 1812, the town was invaded and burned by the British. Naturally, everyone who's anyone garbs themselves 1812 appropriate and turns out to watch the British invade...again. Megan, who writes for a small local newspaper was to cover the event. It's a beautiful historic town with beautiful historic buildings dating back to, as you might guess, 1813. Due to some poor directions from in towners the three of us drove in a fruitless search for the British for about an hour and a half. I will not pretend that I didn't enjoy asking for directions... "Excuse me, could you direct us to where the British are coming?" Finally, Robert succeeded in finding encampments and when we parked and leaped out of our car we walked through the encampment. Robert and Meg went to watch the demonstration of firing a cannon. As I walked though 'camp' I walked past a group of 'soldiers', one of whom tipped his hat and greeted me, "Good afternoon ma'am." "Hello." I said, and then happily, "The British are coming, you know." The 'soldier' smiled at me ruefully and said, "I'm sorry ma'am, we are the British. The British came." The conversation was too much fun Vincent, I carried it further. Trying on my best distressed look I lamented, "Oh no! You're telling me the British came! I missed the invasion?" "Indeed." he said smiling. "In fact," he continued, "Some of the British have gone home. History has passed you by ma'am." "It stands to reason that it has," I mused, "I could have sworn I saw a British officer driving that toyota I passed coming into the parking lot!" Missing the British was absolutely the best part of the day Vincent.
Ultimately that which is retro recycles itself even if it is in the form of a small town reenactment.
The sarcastic tornado is still at full gale. The dance production is equally so with only marginal protest from the parents. This may be due in part, to the fact that I have begun to hide, successfully from them. The Thurber paper, is thankfully finished. I found about two weeks into it that my thesis was not adequatly supported by existing criticism. However, the paper was not to be an "I think" paper but a "he or she thinks" paper. I continued in the vein of "I think" anyway and I suspect it will cost me. Oh well, I made a choice and I enjoyed writing it. And I, I am in general, generally exahusted, but generally (not to be confused with genially) content.
Note that I had every intention of 'just starting' this letter. I'm losing all my self control.
Generally,
Meghan
what they said - what they will say
