A lovely, lazy weekend
I got nothing on my "Things to do" list done this weekend, even the "This is my top priority" thing, things I should and could have gotten done. And it was a beautiful thing.
Friday night, the Smelmooo and I went to dinner at kind of a crappy diner that was crawling with a bajillion screaming kids. But our waitress was efficient and friendly and looked us right in the eye, and gave us refills on our sodas without being asked; and the fries were crispy on the outside without being too crunchy; and the placemats included tons of hilarious ads and coupons, including one for this fine motel, which I think I'd like to see on a 20/20 expose or something, but probably not in person.
Best of all, the diner had a Ms. PacMan machine. I sucked at it, but the Smelmooo rocked it, even though both of us had scores about one-fortieth of the high scorer. But it was so fun playing a little arcade game in a diner vestibule that it didn't matter how badly I played, or how vigorously I had to wash my hands afterward.
On Saturday, we went over to Seth and Leslie's for game night with another couple who we didn't really know, but whom I now love (and I'm not just saying that because one of them told me she reads this site...). I'm a misanthrope at heart anyway, but it sometimes seems particularly dicey, I think, spending time with friends' friends: sometimes people are turfy or aloof, or want to be super-best-friends immediately, or the guy is great but the woman is insufferable, or vice versa, and then everyone's uncomfortable and it's awkward and yucky. But Saturday was the opposite; it was normal and easy and enjoyable, and we played Cranium and ate cocktail weiners and had three kinds of dessert and chatted and just had a relaxed, low-key night and in the car ride home, way past our bedtimes, the Smelmooo and I both talked about how much we liked both halves of the couple. So yay, and thanks.
Yesterday officially marked the end of celebrating the holiday season (well, mostly; Sharico and I still need to exchange our gifts, but we had our holiday dinner already, so we'll call that one unofficial). Every year, my mother-in-law's dearest friend invites the whole Smelmooo family over for a Christmas celebration where she cooks up a storm and supplies tons of drinks and it's warm and cozy and boozy. We exchange gifts, and there are lots of "Remember when...?" kinds of stories. I love listening to those, even the ones that are the same year after year, or the ones I heard last week when the same group gathered for New Year's Day. It's just nice to think about the long history they all share, and how precious these kinds of surrogate family members are.
And Rutgers won and the Giants lost, so the Smelmooo was a very happy camper, and we went to the gym and to the Can-Can sale, and we finally bought a pitcher for the dining room, and we watched Goodfellas, and then started watching a movie we didn't get or like, so off it went, and I'm halfway through A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which I love.
So it wasn't a particularly remarkable weekend, but it felt just perfect, and life seems very good.
Friday night, the Smelmooo and I went to dinner at kind of a crappy diner that was crawling with a bajillion screaming kids. But our waitress was efficient and friendly and looked us right in the eye, and gave us refills on our sodas without being asked; and the fries were crispy on the outside without being too crunchy; and the placemats included tons of hilarious ads and coupons, including one for this fine motel, which I think I'd like to see on a 20/20 expose or something, but probably not in person.
Best of all, the diner had a Ms. PacMan machine. I sucked at it, but the Smelmooo rocked it, even though both of us had scores about one-fortieth of the high scorer. But it was so fun playing a little arcade game in a diner vestibule that it didn't matter how badly I played, or how vigorously I had to wash my hands afterward.
On Saturday, we went over to Seth and Leslie's for game night with another couple who we didn't really know, but whom I now love (and I'm not just saying that because one of them told me she reads this site...). I'm a misanthrope at heart anyway, but it sometimes seems particularly dicey, I think, spending time with friends' friends: sometimes people are turfy or aloof, or want to be super-best-friends immediately, or the guy is great but the woman is insufferable, or vice versa, and then everyone's uncomfortable and it's awkward and yucky. But Saturday was the opposite; it was normal and easy and enjoyable, and we played Cranium and ate cocktail weiners and had three kinds of dessert and chatted and just had a relaxed, low-key night and in the car ride home, way past our bedtimes, the Smelmooo and I both talked about how much we liked both halves of the couple. So yay, and thanks.
Yesterday officially marked the end of celebrating the holiday season (well, mostly; Sharico and I still need to exchange our gifts, but we had our holiday dinner already, so we'll call that one unofficial). Every year, my mother-in-law's dearest friend invites the whole Smelmooo family over for a Christmas celebration where she cooks up a storm and supplies tons of drinks and it's warm and cozy and boozy. We exchange gifts, and there are lots of "Remember when...?" kinds of stories. I love listening to those, even the ones that are the same year after year, or the ones I heard last week when the same group gathered for New Year's Day. It's just nice to think about the long history they all share, and how precious these kinds of surrogate family members are.
And Rutgers won and the Giants lost, so the Smelmooo was a very happy camper, and we went to the gym and to the Can-Can sale, and we finally bought a pitcher for the dining room, and we watched Goodfellas, and then started watching a movie we didn't get or like, so off it went, and I'm halfway through A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which I love.
So it wasn't a particularly remarkable weekend, but it felt just perfect, and life seems very good.
3 Comments:
Oh no! I thought I was being evasive and general enough that you wouldn't pick up that I had you in mind. In fact, our whole impetus for getting Tucker was to ensure that you wouldn't be able to come over, but your lovely wife would. It's a relief to have the truth out there, finally.
By
tangentwoman, at 1:20 PM
Back in 1995 and 1996 there was a string of pregnant high school girls killing their babies. One of these girls was at that motel.
By
Carrie, at 2:41 PM
Can I add a postscript about the Gallery Motel? It is, in fact, the one my former coworker at Prudential used to talk about, because when I saw the website (which made me laugh outloud, again), I remembered seeing a brochure she waved around like it was a description of Versailles. I also remember one particularly funny moment from my time in the corporate world that relates to the Gallery: said coworker, Germaine (a 50-something, chain-smoking, sort of white trash but very loveable GREAT-grandmother) was on a team with me for which we had to travel to San Diego to meet with business partners. We went, along with our boss Teri, an equestrian from somewhere in the Somerset Hills. At dinner with our San Diego compadres, Germaine talked on and on about this hotel and how she and her boyfriend had just been there. She described it in minute detail and I recall the increasingly appalled look on Teri's face. The San Diego team smiled politely and probably thought.."They're so...Jersey!" At the ripe old age of 22, I thought the entire situation was a riot. I reveled in every inappropriate detail that made my boss squirm. I am sorry that this comment is perhaps longer than a typical entry, but I had to share! On a related note, in Weird NJ we'll be featuring a story about the Mount Airy Lodge in the Poconos (who can forget those commercials), now ghastly and abandoned. I fear the Gallery is one day to suffer a similar fate....
-Abby
PS We loved you guys, too!
By
Anonymous, at 5:12 PM
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