We're off to San Diego on Friday morning, and I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to it. I am looking forward to it so much, in fact, that yesterday I took down the large grey faux-Rubbermaid bin with HOLLY'S SUMMER CLOTHES scrawled on it in red Sharpie, and greeted each and every one of my tank tops and floaty skirts with a French kiss. There are many, many, many things I like about living in San Francisco, but wearing wool in June is not one of them.
We're going to San Diego for a wedding, which is taking place on the Friday afternoon. Who gets married on a Friday afternoon, I ask you? PhD students with no concept of the work week, that's who. Still, I'm rather excited about the wedding, even though I cannot imagine the bride---a super-brainy scientist type---in a wedding dress, and am instead picturing her walking down the aisle in a lab coat.
The groom is a friend of Sean's from way back, and I have known him for quite some years too. In fact, the groom and I once bonded rather effectively during the summer of 2001, when we had to drive to jail at 6am together in Norfolk, Virginia to bail out one of Sean's roommates, who had thought it might be a good idea to try and drive his towed car out of the city pound after six too many shots of Jagermeister. I think you'll find this is a particularly special sort of bonding, probably akin to the sort of bonding you'd do with someone if you were stuck in a plummeting elevator with them or maybe clinging to a sinking ship. The type of person who has helped you entertain a humorless bail bond officer at 7am with nothing more than a packet of Cheetos from the prison vending machine is the type of person with whom you will always have something to talk about should the well of conversation dry up. He is also the type of person to whom you will grant one of your precious vacation days so that you can be there for his wedding, EVEN THOUGH IT'S HAPPENING ON A FRIDAY, AND WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?
I have many things planned for the upcoming weekend, though items one through 97 involve some variation of lying on the beach. I also plan to take advantage of the fact that I'm actually not petrified to drive in San Diego---it being flat and all---and venture out to do some shopping. Then there are the various sojourns to our former places of residences and work, because did you know I lived in San Diego for six months in 2002? I'd just graduated from college, and I moved straight out to the States to live with Sean. It was a very strange time in my life: I hated my job (I was a receptionist), I never had any money (I was a receptionist), and we lived with another couple so far away from everything cool that we were pretty much almost in Mexico.
Still, I have vivid memories of being incredibly happy as I sat in my open-top Jeep Wrangler every night on the freeway at sunset, waiting out the hour-long traffic jam that always materialized at 5:07pm and turned the 30-minute commute into a 60-minute one. When Sean was home---which wasn't that often; he was frequently out on the ship he was working on, doing circles in the Pacific Ocean---we had after-work cocktail hour on the tiny balcony, with guacamole I'd just learned to make from scratch. We were so new at living together; we fought all the time about things you'd expect us to fight about: leaving the toilet seat up, putting plates in the dishwasher, whether or not I was cramping his style by putting my books on his bookshelf. We were just starting to figure out our routines. Now, of course, we're old hands at living together, but I do miss those heady first few months when coming home to someone was such a novelty. During my short residency in San Diego, I thought often of the poem "I Remember" by Anne Sexton, and the one pretty-near-perfect line that reads "and what / I remember best is that / the door to your room was / the door to mine."
Anyway, screw all this reminiscing, let's talk about what I'm going to wear to the wedding. I'm thinking probably The Accidental Diane Von Furstenburg, don't you agree? Although I'm not sure my arms and legs will know what's going on, what with the sudden and direct exposure to sunlight. Honestly, it'll be the first time I haven't worn fleece or wool in months.