Life's rich pageant
Me: "Kinda weird. We're having a geekfest on the second anniversary of domesticat."
Jessica: "Oooh. We should have a cake!"…and so year three of writing for this site begins in much of the way that years 2 and 1 began, with me sitting in front of the computer in my pajamas.
In television, it's customary to wrap up a season with a nail-biter of a plot twist, to keep the viewers hanging until the beginning of next season. While online journal writing is often a lot like screenwriting (how does one present the daily events of one's life in a fashion that's both interesting and compelling, even to those who don't know the players involved?), the idea of 'seasons' is a big difference between the two.
Year Three, for domesticat.net, begins with a party, the kind that proves that my old roommate knew what she was talking about when she said, "You always do seem to collect the most interesting people." My excuse for a party was a bit flimsy, but it worked: Heather and Andy would be down from D.C. this weekend for a visit.
Add in Gareth's arrival from a distant planetary corner, and the excuse was made.
A few phone calls, a few emails, and now suddenly I'm sitting in my house on a Saturday morning knowing full well that in about fourteen hours, my house will have turned from Quiet Haunt O'Kitties to … um … whatever it is, exactly, that geekfests turn my house into.
The ice is fresh, the kitchen swept, the table ready for mixing drinks or playing games. Black lights and lava lamps are available for those who feel the need for goofy lighting, and the mp3 player has been set up for weeks now. We've got varyingly silly and thrilling movies ready to roll, and both Kat and Jess have brought a dizzying array of summer fruit for use in drinks, snacks, and cobblers.
Somehow it just seems right to start off Year Three on a note like this, with around 20 people converging upon my house.
I could characterize those two previous years of domesticat.net by the bad things that happened to me. Serious illness, death in the family, you name it—it's happened. But if I had to pick one thing to celebrate, it'd be this:
Of the list of people who will be attending tonight's party, I only knew two of them—Andy and Jeff—when domesticat.net was begun. The rest are all people who have come into my life since the writing began.
Here's to them, the people—whose voice on the phone can make an evening; whose visit can make a weekend; whose love and friendship can make a lifetime. Here's to them, who sit by and let me scribble about their foibles (and mine), who share their lives with me, and make incredibly long treks for geekfests.
Without you, I'd have absolutely nothing to write about but myself, and what an amazingly tedious drudgery that would be.
So here's to you. Celebrations begin at Tim's at six-thirty sharp.