After months of only socializing with my small, trusted group, I did a brave, hopefully not tragic, thing. One of our closest friends from the old Boulder days was in town, and we met up for a visit. His sister rents our condo, so we met there and sat out on the patio to get mostly caught up. I believe we kept sufficient distance to be safe, but I will probably be a little nervous for a week, while I wait to be sure.
We have kept in touch well enough over the years that this wasn't just a chance to rehash high school or college years, but there were plenty of stories from the recent past that had gone unshared until now. The guys did most of the talking while I sat and listened, occasionally interjecting a few comments.
The Mr's most recent birthday adventure with T was told in detail, as much as he remembered about that night. I considered adding in a few bits that he forgot, but they would have dragged down the comedic effect. Our friend told of meeting someone who took him for a whirl through Monaco, and while the story was funny and entertaining, I discovered while listening to it just how far removed I am from that lifestyle, and how desperately glad I am for that. He and the other old friend observed so many ostentatious displays of wealth and privilege that just the recounting of them set my teeth on edge. It didn't sound like a world I would ever want to inhabit. I am happy in my middle class life, in my vintage house, wearing my soft and stretchy Costco and Target clothes. I'm in the right place.
I have a few pix from yesterday after the baby went home, that were sent to me. That kid's smile is all the luxury I need.
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