Plus None

An old friend is getting married this summer, and I couldn't be happier for her. Like me, she's had a history of making bad relationship decisions. I've known this friend since we were kids, so we've been privy to each other's entire dating lives. I've met a number of her exes and watched her live and learn, tweaking what's she's looking for, adjusting her own attitude towards dating and relationships, about what's really important, and who might truly make her happy. And it worked for her!

She found her fiance online. They met a couple of years ago... they moved in, they got a dog, they took trips together... they're still so happy. They're saying "I Do" next month. The wedding is going to be pretty low-key - they're doing a tiny private ceremony at City Hall, and then hosting guests at their reception downtown - the standard dinner, drinks, DJ and dancing.

Now, this old friend is someone I've kept up with since grade six, albeit kind of in a vaccuum. It's not like there are a bunch of us from grade six that are still friends. It's sort of just her and I. We meet for drinks, or brunch, or to walk the dogs, just the two of us. We talk about our lives, share our stories, discuss current events, vent about our frustrations together. Or I go over to her condo and hang out with her and her man. We have our core values in common, but we've gone in different directions in life since those elementary school days for sure. She has a group full of girlfriends who kind of remind me of the ladies of Sex and the City. They wear heels, and lots of make up. They regularly visit the spa, they always have fresh manicures, they go out dancing or to fancy lounges, they drink martinis. Whereas, I'm pretty low maintenance, I avoid the club district like the plague, I like to drink beers with my friends in tiny dive bars where there is live music. I think banjos and mandolins are pretty cool. I like bluegrass and some old school country music. And the thing is, I think she likes my low keyness. She likes that we're different, that she can meet me with her hair in a pony tail and wearing the jeans she wore yesterday and not feel judged. I'm a break from everything, I think. And I'm happy to be that for her.

Today is the wedding shower, and in a couple of weeks, the bachelorette. I've met some of her friends over the years, but don't really know them. Showers and bachelorettes are always a little awkward - a bunch of women thrown together to celebrate the bride-to-be. I guess that's why all the silly games and traditions - to keep people engaged, interacting together, to keep it inclusive.

And here's hoping I find some people to bond with. Because my wedding invite arrived in the mail this week, and it looks like it's just me that will be attending this wedding reception shindig. No plus one.

Now, I know I don't have a boyfriend to speak of, but I had been counting on bringing one of my many male pals. At least to have someone to sit beside me, to bail me out of those times where the dance floor is packed and I'm sitting on the sidelines, downing a drink. Sigh. I know nothing about wedding etiquette, I'll admit, so maybe this is par for the course. But I won't know anyone at this wedding except for the bride and groom, the bride's family, and everyone I'll meet at the shower and bachelorette. Is this weird? Will I be stuck at some lame-ass singles table with the widow-aunts and uncles? Gulp.

I once went to a wedding with an ex-boyfriend where he was the Best Man. An old high school friend of his was getting hitched, so my ex sat next to him at the head table, while I was left to fend for myself all night at a table of random strangers. Awkward.

I'm thinking I should talk to my friend, the bride to be. Maybe this was an oversight? Maybe if I offer to pay for his plate, she'll let me bring a date? Maybe?

Slanted and Enchanted

Yesterday I went to see one of my most favourite bands from my indie-rock days, Pavement, on their reunion tour. Back in my university days, I worshipped these guys. I still own all the records, the imports, the EPs, right down to 7" singles. I hold with me memories of going to see them in small clubs in the 1990s, of following their side projects, of reviewing their releases in my crapola little 'zine that I would cut and paste and copy and snail mail out on request. Heh. I was a total indie rock dork, yes. And I probably still would be if I didn't have to put in so much effort into staying on top of new music. Things like life, and work, and paying the bills get in the way.

So, Pavement announced last year they were going to regroup and do this reunion tour. Which made me pretty damn ecstatic. A friend and I scooped up tickets and commenced the countdown, immediately. They were playing as part of a huge festival type thing, with a few bands that seemed promising and a lot of others who were pretty hipster-ey and next-big-thing or current-big-thing-that-I-have-no-idea-about. I was working anyways, so had to miss almost the whole day of music festivities. We arrived about five minutes prior to Pavement taking the stage, which was a-okay with me. Pavement was the important part.

Well, the sound was kind of crap, and the boys of Pavement were a little sloppy but Internet? I didn't care. I think I knew all the words to every single song they played. Even though I hadn't listened to them in years, everything came back. Every intro, every guitar solo, every chorus, every clever lyric they've ever written. And I wasn't the only one. I was surrounded by people who adored this band at the same time as I did, and with the same degree of passion.

What was strange though, was that this was fifteen years later. We were in our thirties. Every third woman seemed to be pregnant. There were kids running around, Pavement fans' children, who came along for the day. Everyone was sporting wedding rings. I ran into an old co-worker of mine who whipped out her IPhone and started showing me pictures of the baby girl she'd had six months ago. What was up with me, she asked, after blabbing on about her husband, her little girl, how fabulous maternity leave was. Well, I just graduated from college. I'm making $30,000/year less than I was the last time she saw me, and by choice. I'm working at an animal hospital and an obedience school. I'm not with my ex (who she knew also) anymore. Uhhh, yeah. She smiled and asked how Siris was doing. So I was happy, so things were good? she asked. Things are so good, I said, and smiled. After that it was a little awkward - I think she wanted to understand, but I don't think she did. It was clear that I had no babies to bond with her over. I had no flashy web-enabled mobile phone to whip out to show her. I was glad to run into her, and I ooohed and ahhed over her adorable little girl, and I meant all the nice stuff I said. But I couldn't help but feel a bit removed, and I have had this exchange many times over the last few years, running into people I've known over the last ten years of my life. It is always clear: I am on a different path than you. I don't fit in anymore. I am single and in my thirties and I am doing my own thing.

Pavement themselves, on stage, so many metres away and obscured by flashy lights and smoke machines, looked the same to me. I was way too far away to spot any grey hairs, any beer bellies. I like to think they hadn't aged. But we all had. And I felt a bit...old. Because also present at the show, were today's generation of music dorks - probably there to see the it bands of the day, but taking in and appreciating my beloved Pavement for the genius they were in their heyday. Skinny jeans abound. I'm not sure where I fit anymore, Internet, but I bet there are tons of us out there, feeling this. Let's meet up at a Superchunk show, when it happens.

Why I can't wear cute shoes anymore...

I guess I am officially an old lady...because I've developed a bunion. A bunion is an enlargement of bone or tissue around the joint at the base of the big toe. Basically, a huge bump on the side of the great toe joint. The result is irritated skin (check!), pain when walking (check!), joint redness and pain (check!), and possible shifting of the big toe towards the other toes (sadly, check.) Oh, and add, "rubs against most footwear causing discomfort." Check! Gah. This condition is heriditary, so I have good old mom to thank for this. Right now, it's my right foot only, so I guess things could be worse.

From what I can tell, I could have surgery to have my toe realigned, and to have the bump of bone growth/tissue growth removed, but from the research I've done, the condition likes to come back, so what's the point? Plus, even if I tried it, I'd be looking at 6 to 8 weeks recovery, crutches and the like, which isn't exactly practical since I live alone, have no car, and have a dog that needs to go out three times a day.

All winter I've been rocking these babies which are warm, dry, comfortable and big and roomy enough that they don't irritate the old bunion.

But the weather's getting nicer, and I can't be wearing my Sorel boots in the spring and summer. The jig is up! So until it's officially flip flop season, I think I'm fucked. I've been buying these foam bunion cushions that pad the area so shoes don't hurt as much... but they still hurt. Waaah. And I LOVE shoes! Am I gonna have to start shopping at specialty old lady shoe stores? Oh, the humiliation.

Bad news...

...has been coming in droves this past week. I'm not sure how or why but bad things are happening all around me, to some of my favourite people ever.

A good friend's husband got a cancer diagnosis last week. Stage three. He's only thirty two years old, and he's going to lose his foot because that's pretty much his treatment option right now. Thankfully, it hasn't spread to his lymph or to his lungs. But it will, if he doesn't undergo amputation. My friend is being a rock, but I know inside she's a mess. Same with him, obviously.

Another good friend's mom is in a coma and might not wake up. Her lungs and her liver are basically non functioning. She was doing fine last week, and now she's non-communicative. My friend is putting on a brave face, but I know she's terrified, and I would be too. I'm terrified for her, in fact.

Another good friend had a miscarriage, not even a week ago. Heartbreaking.

My heart is aching for them all, and for their families. And I feel pretty helpless, which is worse. I so badly want to do something to make it easier for them, and yet I know nothing will. So I stand by, waiting for updates... trying not to bring it up, but ready to listen if they want to talk. And afraid to answer the phone a little, because of what I might hear when I do.

We are all getting older. Our parents are getting older. Life's changing. Is this "the thirties", or is this just an exceedingly bad start to the year 2009? ... I don't know.

I am keeping everyone in my thoughts and in my heart, and hoping for an upswing, for a good karma kickback for those who I know so absolutely deserve it. I want so much to hear something good.