A strange weekend fell into my lap. Friday night I had a sitter for my middle child and a friend’s two daughters, and my other two kids (the bread in the sandwich, if you will) were riding to spend the weekend with my parents in Montgomery. I had a book club meeting that night, unusual because we normally meet on Mondays. We’ve figured out that we can usually manage a better drinking night if we do it on a Friday. Sad but true. At the same time, a group of my blogger comrades–Hewy, Heather, Jessica, Charnita, Laura, Twisted Lisa, and the Bama Bargain lady, Terry (prob. spelled your name wrong and I am truly sorry)–were getting together at the Depot.
First, I’ll apologize to anyone who was trying to eat at the Depot in Old Town Helena on Friday between 7 and closing. We were loud. And we took up a lot of space. But goodness, it was fun. Charnita’s family came along, and even my antisocial husband seemed to have a good time. After Hewy pulled out his giant podcast orb and I accused him of eating like a woman, the group dwindled to just Heather, my husband, me, and the Give Me the Booger lady, whom I’ve known for six years or so because our children were friends in their preschool years.
I was proud of my husband for stepping out of his usual social role and coming along as a willing participant. He even engaged in conversation that wasn’t about bicycles or business.
Tonight the remaining kid is at a sleepover. Hubby did the Old Howard 100 and I decided to go see a movie alone. Before you start feeling pity for me, you should know I asbofreakinlutely love going to movies alone. Some movies are fun to watch with friends. The first time I went to see Twilight, I was with a group of six obnoxious women, all in our 30s and 40s, aka my best buds. But tonight I saw Adventureland. I’d heard the soundtrack was great (though I like r.E.m.’s version of “Pale Blue Eyes” more than Lou Reed’s, maybe because it’s the one I heard first as a kid) and so had high hopes for the movie. I was not disappointed.
I was one of five people in the auditorium. I had the whole back row to myself and put my feet up with my shoes off. Loved loved loved the movie. I think I even cried a little at the end. Besides capturing the spirit of the mid-80-s without going too much into cliche (like, say, That 80s Show, sorry Glenn), it was a sweet love story. Not sweet like Disney Princess sweet, but sweet like, gosh, that’s how everyone should be able to fall in love in their 20s.
I fell for my husband when I was 18 and never had that experience. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, just that watching it on screen makes me feel like I might have missed something. That’s what a good movie does: makes you question your life because you lack those particular experiences. I’m not unhappy, but a fresh perspective is good to kind of kick you in the ass.
EDITED TO ADD: Any movie that starts with “Bastards of Young” is worth watching.