People assume that because I read an enormous amount, I am good at trivia.
Fun fact: I am not good at trivia.
At least, not bar trivia. I know nothing of sports, pop culture, geography, or music. And guess which topics dominate?
Some friends invite me every few weeks to join their trivia group and I go and I usually provide nothing to the team. At most I can claim a knowledge of history, but one of my teammates is a far bigger history buff than I am and usually knows the answer. (Though, actually, once, several glorious months ago, I answered a sports question: it was pole vaulting. And I suppose the one time a law question came up, I got that too)
But last night…I did it. I knew the answer to the question and no one else at my table did. Such a moment of triumph. And the category? Literature.
So if you ever need someone who can recognize an Emily Dickinson poem at your trivia night, I’m your woman.
This past weekend I visited my friend Sara. We figure we met online around age 12; we certainly met in person for the first time at age 16. Not only did she know me at my craziest, she introduces me to people by telling them about it.
“This is Amy. I didn’t like her when we met because she was super hyper.”
“This is my friend Amy. In high school I pulled her off picnic tables because when debate got really heated she would turn bright red and stand on them to make her point.”
“This is Amy! She went on her first plane ride with me and I kept having to forcibly drag her through the airport because she kept pausing to complain about the historical inaccuracy of the murals on the airport walls.”
And the worst part? I don’t have any horrible stories to tell back! Either I don’t remember them or she was just really mature at 16. Or, as probably more likely, I was the crazy one and anything she did paled compared to me standing on picnic tables.
Or irritating the tour guide at the White House with my steady stream of commentary.
Or staying up till 4 am watching the Disney Channel because by golly I was not going to let the cable TV in our hotel room go to waste.
In conclusion, it is good to have old friends. It keeps you humble.
I am visiting my friend in Minnesota this weekend and falling in love with her cat. Its name is Edo.
She also has a dog named Tux.
They are TuxEdo.
The cat is currently entertaining herself with a fake mouse. She casually pretends she cannot see it and then bats it away before chasing it across the room. Or casually picks it up and flings it.
This confuses the dog who then comes over to investigate and gets swatted by the cat 1/7th his size.
Entertainment for hours.
I have to admit, though, most of the reason I enjoy hanging with both pets is because they have a really good pet owner who makes them mind her. And I realize that as charming as they are, I probably would not be as excellent an owner. So instead of getting one, I am just going to keep playing with hers.
It is about time for my annual jog. I can feel it in my bones, a restless need to move that is more psychological than physical. I respond to it by running really hard for a short time and then the feeling goes away. I am free to be my own lethargic self for another year.
Except unfortunately I do not have time right now to go for a run. By the time my daily activities end, it is dark. And I do not run in the dark. So the feeling continues.
Tonight, when I realized I missed my bus and the next one was still 25 minutes out, I turned to my law school friend who was also waiting for the bus and lives nearish me and asked if he wanted to walk to the next bus stop. I figured it was a win-win. I’d get my exercise and not freeze my butt off standing in one spot and since I was walking with someone, and a guy at that, I could worry less about getting mugged.
Except, maybe you’ve noticed this, I can be kind of intense? So once we hit the next stop and the bus was still 20 minutes out, I suggested we kept walking…
Then the bus passed us before we made it to the next stop.
Being the reasonable person I am, I suggested we walk the rest of the way back. What I did not realize? The walk back is over an hour. We’d have saved so much time if we just waited for the next bus.
But I guess I got my exercise in.
So, for Siblings Day, my brother gave me a card game: The Voting Game. He thought it sounded like a good ice breaker. Basically, everyone playing gets a number, you read a prompt, and vote for the person/number it sounds most like. Like Apples to Apples! we thought.
We were wrong.
The fact that the game was for 17+ should have been the first clue
It might actually be a fun game for a close group of friends. But for strangers/acquaintances? Let’s just say it is closer to Cards Against Humanity than Apples to Apples and a sure way to offend literally everyone. Definitely not a good game for a church small group game night.
Guess who brought it to a church small group game night? Not sure I can ever show my face again.
He knew. She knew. I knew. He knew I knew. She knew that I knew that she knew. But I did not know if he knew that I knew that she knew that I knew that she knew.
It was great.
I didn’t blog about it earlier but my college roommate’s boyfriend proposed to her this weekend and as part of the surprise (or non-surprise, if you can decipher my ramble above) he flew me out to Norfolk, Virginia. I didn’t blog about it beforehand because I wasn’t sure if she read my blog. (Hello? Rina?)
It was a truly delightful visit. They were the ones getting engaged but somehow I feel like I was the one thoroughly spoiled. We visited Fort Monroe and the USS Wisconsin. We played at the beach and chatted about little nothings. And we ate tons of great seafood!
I was supposed to fly back Saturday but they actually payed for my flight so I could stay till Sunday!
It is hard to get back into the swing of life after that weekend. Pics to come if they ever upload any. And if they don’t? Well, take my word for it. It was delightful.
It is odd attending a wedding as a non-wedding party member. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m at that age where most of my friends are getting hitched and the last few I attended involved me participating at some way. But let me tell you, not being a bridesmaid is so…low key.
I just showed up. I ate. I danced. And then I left. No clean up, no prep, no extra care over hair. Weird stuff. I still feel a little guilty leaving without at least stacking a chair or sweeping or something.
In other news, happy wedding day, Jon and Noelle!