We have a play group this afternoon. This is the first play group we’ve been to — well, ever. I’ve mentioned before I’m a bit of a homebody — and although I wouldn’t go quite so far as to call it pathological, I really have to push myself to get out in the world with Badger.
And we do get out, but it’s to the playground, to the pool, to Barnes and Noble. We still meet people — when you’re with Badger, you meet everyone you see — but not in that organized, intentional socializing way. So I’m a little terrified. I’m just miserable at making small talk: “How old is s/he? S/he’s adorable! I love her/his <item of clothing>. So where are you guys from? Oh, cool. What, uhh…. bands do you like?” My small talk is stuck in summer camp circa 1988 mode. Sigh. I’m posting this to keep me honest; otherwise I’m afraid I’ll “forget” or “realize I forget to pack a lunch” or some other fig leaf for just plain chickening out. Wish me luck; I’ll let you know how it went.
*It’s terrible; this humidity is killing me. You know when people say they look like the Bride of Frankenstein and they’re exaggerating? I am not exaggerating. I look like Cosmo Kramer’s unkempt sister.