It is Saturday morning, and I was up at 7:58 am. This sort of goes against everything I believe in. I like my weekend mornings to start sometime after ten, have a long leisurely breakfast around noon, maybe get dressed sometime in the afternoon. But this morning I’m up, so I might as well make the most of it. The reason I am up so early on a Saturday is that I went to bed at 10 pm last night. Yep, 10 pm on a Friday.
I worked a little later than usual, and was looking forward to my big Friday night plans of doing laundry and watching Netflix. I’m not even being sarcastic — I really was looking forward to it. I got a load started, changed into some comfy clothes, and decided to take the dog for a long walk. It was a beautiful night. Not too hot, not too cold, the sun was setting, and I knew the lake would look all sun-kissed and sparkling. As we were walking home, along a busy street, I heard the song “22” by Taylor Swift blasting from one of the cars stopped at the light. I wouldn’t call myself Taylor Swift’s biggest fan, but it did strike me that that was a pretty good song to get your Friday night started with if you were young – around 22- and actually had plans. I followed the music to a red convertible with 4 teenagers. I noticed the girls first, two very young, very pretty girls in tiny clothing. They both had long hair that they were dramatically flipping over their shoulders and you could tell they were doing their best to look cool and bored. I knew those looks. I’d been there once. But it was the boys that I couldn’t handle. First of all, there was no way these guys were 22. The whole car had to be just barely 16, and the boys in front… They were wearing these hats — I’m not even sure what you call them these days, they were sort of like trucker hats – with the broad brim and these weird bright patterns all over them. The hats of course, were not actually on their heads. Instead, they were just sort of placed there, a little bit to the side, so we could see their luscious locks of Beiber hair, perfectly placed and unmoving despite being in a convertible. Then they were also wearing neon colored large sunglasses. I guess because they matched their hats. I couldn’t see their pants, but I can pretty much guarantee you that they were tighter than the ones I was wearing. I couldn’t help myself, I started laughing out loud. The boys noticed me blatantly staring at them, and probably thinking that I thought they were cute or cool or something, tipped their sunglasses and smiled at me before driving away with the still bored looking girls. I’m not entirely sure why the whole thing struck me as so hilarious, I just all of a sudden felt so old and out of touch. This is how guys dress nowadays? This is cool? Where have I been? The best part, what made me feel even older, is that I didn’t care! I felt bad that they had to spend so much time with hair gel and neon skinny jeans while I got to go home and eat popcorn on the couch with my dog and watch funny movies and wash my normal colored clothes.
At the same time, though, I did feel a little nostalgic. The clothes have changed (this post makes me sounds like I’m 80), and I never rode around in a convertible at that age, but the driving around on a Friday night – hoping the boys in the front seat like you, worrying about how your tiny shirt makes you look, those things never change. So then I started thinking about the 90s and high school boyfriends and fragile egos and short-lived friendships, and by the time I made it back to my apartment and switched over my laundry I was not only happy for my “lame” Friday night, but thankful for it. And after watching some bad tv and eating a whole bowl of popcorn, I found myself in bed at 10 pm, and it was perfect.
Just feelings this morning – no recipe, but if you’re good, you might get a recipe for “whatever I have in my pantry blueberry pancakes for one” in the near future…