So Dave and I went to the Goo Goo Dolls/Counting Crows concert this past Friday. Johnny Rzeznik was beautiful and high; the band was lovely and lazy but I got to see Johnny and hear him talk in his state of highness ("Is this that sweet shit that tastes like baby aspirin and vodka?") so I was content. That and they played all of my favorite songs, if not as well as their albums. The Crows surpassed them in terms of genuinity and energy. The lead singer still has this perplexed mass of dreadlocks settled atop his skull. The last song they played is Dave's favorite of theirs and he swayed (gasp!) and sang along (DOUBLE GASP!!) with them without any encouraging prods from his girlfriend who actually enjoys big group settings.
We were accompanied by Dave's two siblings, his 32-year-old brother Colin and mid-20-something sister Rina, making Dave the baby of the siblings. And what a bunch. Dave was positively Herculean when contrasted with his slightly built brother and sister and I just felt like being as soft as I am was somehow a crime or a genetic defect in this circle of DNA. While my siblings and I fill the extra minutes with bickering in the car or playing tic-tac-toe on napkins at the dinner table they believed in an unconsciously staunch quiet. When I laughed I felt loud and obnoxious because they are just not a group of laughers; I'm sure Dave would say I'm loud and obnoxious anyways (I know you were thinkin' it) but that's all right. I'll just have a long-suffering sigh and move on with life.
This said boy just left the house and i'm left to pack for my flight to Florida tomorrow. Erick and Natalie have been ESPECIALLY squirrely tonight and I dread the multiple-hour layover we've got in Chicago tomorrow evening. Like the sick sick feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach that knows scenarios involving enraged hair-ripping and screams and pouting children running off to hide from the group are bound to happen. I hope my grandmother doesn't mind me coming half-bald and hoarse...
It'll be a good week. I'll need to make some friends (and fast) while I'm down there, that and get in some driving time BY MY MYSELF (solitude capitalized purposefully) along the beach. I know, I'll be careful and I won't be stupid but I refuse to be hypnotized by the boob tube an obscene amount. I'll spend time missing Dave and alternately calling and texting him; I'll do a lot of reading and swimming and a LOT of tanning (I'm a sun sponge so it shoudn't be hard) and playing cards with my grandmother. Alot of stuff is missing now: the expectation of a dinner night at my great-grandmother's; the smell of Ginger the cocker spaniel and the feel of the soft spirals on her ears; the presence of my mother and father enjoying his one week off, all of us together. And then again, not all things have changed: like the smell of sun tan lotion in the guest room; the sound of my grandmother shuffling several decks of cards; breakfast with Grandpa Dee one morning of the week; the announcement that my grandma Margaret makes just when we get there that we're on vacation and can do whatever we want and just to let her know; the sound of one my siblings whimpering to call Daddy because he/she misses them; the smell and sound of the ocean at all stages and stenches; the feel of the carpet in the rooms on the soles of my feet...
...I am already there
We were accompanied by Dave's two siblings, his 32-year-old brother Colin and mid-20-something sister Rina, making Dave the baby of the siblings. And what a bunch. Dave was positively Herculean when contrasted with his slightly built brother and sister and I just felt like being as soft as I am was somehow a crime or a genetic defect in this circle of DNA. While my siblings and I fill the extra minutes with bickering in the car or playing tic-tac-toe on napkins at the dinner table they believed in an unconsciously staunch quiet. When I laughed I felt loud and obnoxious because they are just not a group of laughers; I'm sure Dave would say I'm loud and obnoxious anyways (I know you were thinkin' it) but that's all right. I'll just have a long-suffering sigh and move on with life.
This said boy just left the house and i'm left to pack for my flight to Florida tomorrow. Erick and Natalie have been ESPECIALLY squirrely tonight and I dread the multiple-hour layover we've got in Chicago tomorrow evening. Like the sick sick feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach that knows scenarios involving enraged hair-ripping and screams and pouting children running off to hide from the group are bound to happen. I hope my grandmother doesn't mind me coming half-bald and hoarse...
It'll be a good week. I'll need to make some friends (and fast) while I'm down there, that and get in some driving time BY MY MYSELF (solitude capitalized purposefully) along the beach. I know, I'll be careful and I won't be stupid but I refuse to be hypnotized by the boob tube an obscene amount. I'll spend time missing Dave and alternately calling and texting him; I'll do a lot of reading and swimming and a LOT of tanning (I'm a sun sponge so it shoudn't be hard) and playing cards with my grandmother. Alot of stuff is missing now: the expectation of a dinner night at my great-grandmother's; the smell of Ginger the cocker spaniel and the feel of the soft spirals on her ears; the presence of my mother and father enjoying his one week off, all of us together. And then again, not all things have changed: like the smell of sun tan lotion in the guest room; the sound of my grandmother shuffling several decks of cards; breakfast with Grandpa Dee one morning of the week; the announcement that my grandma Margaret makes just when we get there that we're on vacation and can do whatever we want and just to let her know; the sound of one my siblings whimpering to call Daddy because he/she misses them; the smell and sound of the ocean at all stages and stenches; the feel of the carpet in the rooms on the soles of my feet...
...I am already there
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