I took The Boy I Currently Like home with me for the second time yesterday. It was actually his third visit, but on the first, there was no meeting of family (save for my brother's impromptu visit). I was glad to have him there and he told me more than a couple of times he had fun, was glad I asked him and was glad he came down with me.
It probably wasn't that long ago that I said something along the lines of "the next time I bring a guy home to meet my family, I'm going to be on the verge of marrying him."
So yeah, that turned out to be not true at all.
We went to my brother and sister-in-law's place to have dinner and end up hanging out there for a long time. I think my mom would have stayed all night, holding her new grandson. She even offered to let me hold him once, saying she didn't want to hog him. I let her hog him as much as she wanted. I wanted to get back out to the farm to pet the spazzy puppy.
A possible highlight of our visit for The Boy was finding a picture of 17-year-old me in the trophy case in my old high school. I was there to rehearse with my former choir director in advance of singing with her at the local winery next month. Of all the things he could have done in the few minutes it took me to go to the bathroom, he had to look at the trophy case. I honestly had no idea I was in a picture in there. It was from my gig as a statistician for the wrestling team.
It's pretty ridiculous/hilarious.
I was sad that I didn't get to say goodbye to the puppy today. She apparently got into the lagoon right before we left.
"Oh, that doesn't sound terrible," you might say. But you also might not know that "lagoon" is a nice-sounding euphemism for the manure pit. She got into the pig manure. And she was filthy. I didn't want to get close. Poor dad just gave her a bath on Friday, too. Guess she felt too clean. Fortunately, I'll get to see her in two weeks again when I go down to sing. I can probably make it that long without some dog pettin'.
I should probably be getting my dishes finished and laundry put away so I can get to bed. I've not slept well since Wednesday and this is gonna be a long week. I'm going to see Noel Gallagher on Wednesday and AC Newman on Thursday. I don't know that I've gone to consecutive shows more than once in my life. Look at me, having fun and shit.
Though, I might be going home for a funeral this week. My mom called not long after I got home, asking if I'd heard anything about a former classmate of mine who she heard had died. I did some digging on Facebook and it seems he killed himself this weekend. I wasn't close to him in school or out, but I'd known the guy since I was a little girl -- probably since kindergarten. And I've even run into him out on the town in Minneapolis in recent years. It's pretty heartbreaking to see his last post from Friday followed a day later by condolences, remembrances and lamentations from friends and loved ones.
It's been a good several years since I was at such a low point, but for me, anyway, it's unfortunately a little too easy to remember how alone and desperate it felt. I hope he at least found the peace in death that he couldn't get in life.