Catching up

Tamara cruised into town Friday night and picked me up from work. We stayed up 'til 4, drinking red and white wine and kvetching about family and relationships and all the variables of twentysomething life we still haven't quite managed to add up completely. It was awesome catching up, and how we managed to wake up without massive hangovers is, I guess, a happy little miracle. Saturday we had lunch with Phil at the Young Avenue Deli, and enjoyed their detached waitstaff service (the kind that makes you go ask the people at the next table to borrow their pen so you can sign your check and get the hell outta there).

We spent some time in the House of Mews cuddling the friendly cats and avoiding the ornery ones. Tamara nearly left with two new pals for Sabian, but her willpower held strong.

Finally I had to go to work and she had to drive up to see her grandparents in Covington. The visit was too short, of course, but I'm glad to have had it. It's always good for the soul to reconnect with people who have known you for so long they've seen you become many people, many times over. Tamara saw me through my most awkward phases in life, when I was wearing tie-dyed hammer pants and barrettes made of shoelaces and deflated baloons (true story) in my hair. We can sit now and talk now about the shifting, bittersweet nature of where we came from and all the odd things we've been through and are going through, and I don't feel so crazy or alone.