Last weekend, Miss Chef and I traveled north to the Cleveland area for a wedding. It was for one of my friends from college, and was a great opportunity to get the whole gang together again. My friends were happy to meet Miss Chef, and I was very happy to show her around the area where I grew up.
The wedding was fun, but that's only natural, since the first part of the ceremony involved generous pours of wine and whisky for all who wished to participate. The actual wedding ceremony was, of course, very touching, though I think the father of the bride cried more than anyone. Awww! I have to say I've never seen a happier bride--she nearly skipped down the aisle afterwards. The groom seemed pretty happy, too; at least he didn't have any trouble keeping up with his new wife.
At the reception, I managed to figuratively splash a little cold water at our college-reunion table when I began musing about how much our group has been through together--parents passing, degrees earned, and our first reproduction (one month old!). I started to figure out how long ago we had all met, but after the words "19 years" tumbled out of my mouth, there was a bit of a silence. Holy ---- ! I demand a recount.
What happened? I feel like we just graduated five years ago! Maybe precisely because we're still marrying off our friends, and "our" first baby is only a month old, I never readjusted my mental slide rule beyond "twenty-something." But now we're rolling rapidly toward 40--urgh. That is one birthday that is NOT going to go down easily. I don't want to imagine my friends as middle-aged. I had a weird moment when I looked at one of my friend's husband and saw him simultaneously as a 19 year-old and a 50 year-old. Weird. At least I managed to keep my mouth shut at that point.
I'm beginning to realize that I'm not ready to age, gracefully or otherwise. I prefer to remain in blissful denial, even as I recognize my parents' and brother's aging. Yep, he can turn 40, no problem there. But he can keep that for himself; I'm perfectly happy in my 30s. On the other hand, I know I should really stop worrying about only having so many "3"s left, and enjoy what I've got without counting. I've done that up to this point, why should I change that now?
Well, as at the wedding, I have found there is, if not a solution to this aging thing, at least a tool to manage it well. Wine. Not only does it soften the harsh edges of life, but it's doctor-recommended. I'm doing it for my health!
Yeah, like, awesome, dewd.