I’ve just (ish) returned from an epic, whirlwind tour of the East Coast. And by East Coast, I mean the tri-state area. And by tri-state area, I mean…never mind. I just got back from the East Coast. Let’s just leave it at that.
I have some observations about the place from whence I hailed (if this is not proper Shakespearean English, I could not be less interested) that I would like to share with you. Please. Sit back, pour yourself some bourbon/wine/water (no judgement) and allow me to regale you with tales of my homeland.
First and foremost, as usual, my family is very cute. I am just all about them.
[small sister being smart and accomplished as usual]
[my mom being a good cook, also as usual]
[pops and small sister being adorbs to celebrate small sister's graduation from college...tear]
[my pops demonstrating the slightly too-short showerhead/being a clown, as usual]
Three years ago, My Man and I made an executive decision to move from Connecticut to Colorado, in an effort to embark on a new adventure and also, because my hair looked bad in Connecticut. Can we talk for a second? The east coast is SO HUMID. Like I could just die and the curly-haired ‘fro comes back in a major way. However, it does allow for luscious greenery typically not to be seen in beautiful Colorado, such as what you see below:
[this is the backyard of the house I grew up in. there are two bunnies and a duck in this picture; can you see them? no? me neither.]
[I walked past this sickeningly adorable tableau when I was walking home from the train last week. I kind of can't handle it.]
I do freaking love New York, but not when it’s raining, y’all. I think I sort of had a realization while darting in and out of bars in the city that while I LOVE New York, much of what I love is the people-watching – which is very hard to do when you’re desperately trying to protect your carefully-straightened hair from the elements by hiding hobbit-style inside your raincoat. So. I’m just keeping it real. Living in a drought state has spoiled me.
While we’re keeping it real, I spent the majority of my last weekend out east at my beloved alma mater, Wesleyan.
A few things about Wesleyan:
1) I love it just so much. Sometimes, I feel like a sad loser for looking back on college with such an incredibly high volume of nostalgia, but then I spend time with college friends and remember why it’s totally justified. OMG college. I heart you, where did you go?
2) While I have oft-pretended to make disparaging comments about a cappella as a general institution, I loved The New Group with every fiber of my being. I was at Wesleyan specifically for the group’s 25th anniversary, and oh boy oh wow did it fill me with lots of pride! Truth: I cried on a plane watching Pitch Perfect. And not from crying. It was nostalgia and jealousy. JEALOUSY. (Continuing to keep it real at the moment, so no judging!!)
[a few shots from rehearsal and our performances, in case you feel like you missed out.]
[the current New Group]
[One of my biggest LOL moments - this picture was taken at 3 o'clock in the morning (I know, I know). The (extremely enterprising) falafel truck at Wesleyan was smart enough to get a tent for rainy reunion weekend, such as to provide not only drunchies but also cover from the terrible weather. Brilliant!]
Other observations that I have after going back to college for the weekend: 1) Drinking like a college student does not MAKE you a college student. Your hangover will be worse, you will question 100% of your previous decisions, and you will (temporarily) hate your life. And then you’ll do it again the next night. Because reunions are short.
2) College students have NO IDEA how good they have it. Studying abroad?* (*My experience may have been somewhat of an exception to this.) Living with all of your friends and not paying rent? Having your only real responsibility be to learn lots of things from really smart people? Come ON, guys. Dreamworld fo sho.
My parents bought a beach house in a town that looks something like this. It has adorable signs that kind of look like this:
[still don't have any idea what kind of store this is...]
and houses that kind of look like this:
How cute, right? I kind of just want to stroll around there saying hi to everybody and being a busybody. It feels like the kind of town that maybe would have busybodies. I don’t mean to presume, but it’s the way I feel.
[I ate this when we were in Ocean Grove. I know it just looks kind of brown, but it was DELICIOUS.]
The last thing I wanted to share with you was this painting, which was on the wall of my parents’ bedroom in the B&B that we stayed at for Small Smags’ graduation. I just thought that no painting ever captured the essence of a bed and breakfast quite so perfectly. What do you think?
So, the most final of my observations: I think there is a point in life where you realize that you have multiple homes. That started happening to me a few years ago, when I moved out to Colorado, and now, as I get ready to leave Colorado and make a home somewhere else, I’m sure it will happen again. There’s a very strange feeling when you realize that the place you consider your home is in many ways no longer REALLY your home – but the wonderful people who make that place a home keep it as a wonderful place for you to come back to once in a while. And that’s a great feeling. [End of Sex and the City episode-style-monologue.]
And so went, and so was had, my trip back east. I am happy to report that since returning, my hair has gone (somewhat) back to normal and I have enjoyed every second of dry air this place has to offer, while (obviously) missing my friends and family terribly. Just keepin’ it real.