While Jeremy’s in New York/Philly helping his parents move, I’m holding down the fort here in DC. This past weekend, I went to a party. I asked Vince to mind Edda for about 3 hours Saturday afternoon, and I went to an engagement party of a child of one of our friends. I guess I shouldn’t say child, I should say son. My friends are just ever so slightly older than me and their children are about 5 years older than my children – but still – a milestone for me (well, of course, a huge milestone for my friends) because omg, I’m so old, my friends’ kids are starting to get getting married. What do you say to a 23ish-year-old person who is getting engaged when you are their-age-years deep in your own marriage? I mean, I love being married and Jeremy and I are well suited and it seems like we’ll be able to manage it until the bitter end, but even though I love being married doesn’t mean there aren’t moments of holy crap, what/who did I tie myself to until I die? When you get engaged at 23 (which was pretty much the age I got engaged) – there is like no idea what it will be like. Did I say – good luck? I think I said congrats! And I gave them some $ which I think, is the best way to start a marriage. With some $ in your pocket. (and omg, I got married in 1998. That dates sound so so so long ago. In the 1900s!)
It was an all-outdoor party. No masking. I stayed the entire three hours even though I wasn’t planning on it and I didn’t know many people and I was by myself. I had a good time. The weather was good, there was shade. I ate three cupcakes. And a glass of champagne. I’m starved for a party apparently, I had many conversations.
Homemade cupcakes!
