I'd never had a regular hangout before I moved to Central City--a cafe or bar or park where I would arrive and expect to bump into people I know, where the bartender would know my name, and I could even leave an outstanding tab for a number of days 'cos they know i'm good for it. Sure there have been pubs and coffeehouses that i've frequented and the barista or staffer would smile with vague recognition, and occasionally i'd run into a friend, but up until now I'd never actually had a bartender look up when I came in and say "Evening, Kristen--the usual?"
Its quite nice, actually--knowing there's somewhere I can go when home gets too cubical--like Cheers, or Moe's, or the Drunken Clam... it does mean i'm showing signs of alcoholism, true, but it also means i'm getting out more. I've lived here two weeks and i've already established my social position--not just the crowd I run with but i've picked out bosom companions and a couple of mortal enemies. Elsewhere its taken me months or even years to get my societal bearings (and in instances such as middle school, i never actually landed a place at all) but i figure that in a situation such as summer stock every aspect of human interaction has a certain rushed quality to it. In the backs of our minds we all know that our likelihoods of encountering one another anytime soon after the close of our contracts are fairly low, so we work to have a well-rounded three month social experience that can end cleanly when the theater shuts its doors. We meet in a large heap, we get a vague notion of one another's interests, experiences, and qualities, we evaluate one another based on those impressions, and from there we branch off. some become cliques, some date, some fight, some never cross paths, but at the end of the summer we all feel that everything--not just the theatre season, but the friendships, the brief loves, the teeth-gritting feuds--are over and moot. After a few months we forget everyone's names and are only reminded of each other's continued existence by the occasional Facebook post and the random search through one's phone book. Just the other day i came across a name in my cell phone which prompted the thought "oh yeah! he was...er...i know i know him..." and it took me a while to realize he was once my boss. But that's the lifestyle.
so yeah. the bar. Its fun to realize that you can look over at a friend and ask "you going to the bar tonight?" and both of you know exactly which bar, at exactly what time. (partly because there's only one real bar in Central, but it's run by good people and the mayor makes pizza on weekends so we don't mind.) I like this concept--my home bar.
In other news, i wrenched my back this morning and may have to seek out a chiropractor. I'm walking like C-3PO.
100 Delicate Chocolates: Ingredients: 1 10"x 10"x 1 1/4" block of blue foam, 1 tub sculpt-or-coat, brown, black, red, white, yellow, and purple paints, and 2 artificial flowers.
Cute oversized lollipops: yep, they're cotton rope.
"wickering" an aluminium table. note the unpainted yarn.
Before: yes, the clorox was necessary to kill some of the mold that had been growning in this chair for the past few years. Each of the little buttons had to be individually prised off. the red material behind them was some horrible version of pleather.
