Day 75 - Sunday, Fun Day

So remember how I told you about that all-girls bookclub of 20-30 somethings that I was trying (ok begging) to join? Well, they did in fact let me in and yesterday I attended my first meet-up.

I nervously set my alarm in case I overslept. Like a schoolgirl, I hand-picked my outfit, laying each piece out thoughtfully.

I debated with myself as I peered into my messy closet. No, no...that's overdressed. OR This outfit looks like I'm trying to hard. OR trying too little on that outfit. But THIS ONE, this is just right. Seemingly effortless, casual, and stylish. Bingo.

The setting for our Sunday soiree of potluck and book swap is a shaded park in Mission Hills, an old neighborhood in San Diego known for its old-growth trees, historic architecture and quaint walkability. I get a little excited/anxious as I quick check myself in the mirror. New friends...here I come!

I stop at Trader Joe's to pick up a dish. It's whole wheat tortilla chips and guacamole dip. I grab a gallon of chilled green tea with mint for my sippy cup. As the grocer places my goods in recycled bags, I'm pleased with my selections. I think they say, "Look, I'm conscious! Befriend me!"

I note that an intense urge to smoke hits me as I breeze down the freeway to my destination. I want to roll the window down and thoughtfully take pulls. I'm a rebel, a misfit, that's where I fit in, my craving seems to coax. I ignore that Junkie brain, and unwrap my dark chocolate instead. I shove squares of truffle in my mouth at 70 miles per hour.

I get lost and I'm late. After a call to my beloved human GPS (Dave) who recently bought me a real GPS (Garmin), I pull up to the green park nestled in the city. A cluster of about twenty girls congregates near the center, sitting cross-legged on blankets. I creep up to the food table and no one looks up as spear watermelon and scoop hummus unto my plate. Even when I give my I'm sorry I'm a loser face to the chatty group, no one seems to pay attention. I am relieved when I finally sit down on the fringe.

And then I fall in love. These girls are knee-deep in a conversation about whether or not one of Jodi Picoult's recent books lacked her usual spunk. Which parlayed into which of her books were faves and which flops. I have opinions on this very matter. I share them. People laugh. I fit right in.

When they ask me about the book I brought, "The Glass Castle" by Jeannette Walls, I express succinctly and steadily what I love about this memoir. The dysfunction. The heart-ache. The genius. When I'm done, a girl turns to me and says, "I read that book, I loved it."

When the swap starts, I'm secretly pleased with myself. My book is coveted. It's one of the first to reach White Elephant retirement, meaning it's been stolen/traded two times and therefore can be swapped no more. I end up with a collection of the best American essays from 2006. I'm thrilled about this as I think it might help me improve upon this very blog.

We form a circle and chat about where we're from and where we've been. We talk about babies and careers. We talk about movies and books. As the girls start to thin away into their cars and their lives, I end up talking at length with a girl, who also recently married and who recently moved here from Nashville.

Randomly, she cut Dave's hair a few weeks ago. Through their conversation, they deduced that her and I coincidentally belonged to the same book club. Considering the one-in-a-bunch chance of that, me and her e-mailed a few times, and met for the first time today! It's fateful enough that I pay attention to it. I'm eager to see it through, to find its path.

She's in a similar place as me in life, and we got along excellently. I'm hoping hoping hoping, perhaps I've got me a friend.

Look at me now, world. All growed up.