It was at Olive Garden and there were about twenty people there. We were in a semi-private back room, which was great, as the place was packed. That's always to be expected on a Sunday at the height of the season, as hordes come over the causeway from Long Beach Island.
Had a pleasant time. Sat next to Tony D., whose birthday was celebrated. He was with his partner, Joe Somebody, with whom he's lived for thirty years. I talked a lot to Claire E., also, another Mystic Shores resident, whom I know slightly, but like more and more. Interestingly, she deals in antiques and is also a doll collector. I was thrilled when Carol B. came over to tell me she had seen my nephew, Tim W., on "House Hunters," as several of my other neighbors did.
We didn't leave until after 7:00. I had planned to go to the Ice Cream Social at the clubhouse after, but we had had ice cream and cake for dessert and I was stuffed. Decided to skip it and just go home.
Here's something I'm musing over: My sixtieth high school reunion is planned for September and naturally I received an invitation: lunch at Smithville Inn. The cost? Forty bucks! Now I lunch at Smithville frequently and have never even come close to spending forty bucks, even when I order a beer. What's more, we've had Dine Around dinners there and they weren't even forty bucks. Highway robbery, it seems to me.
I e-mailed John and Theresa G., the chair and his cohort (they started dating in high school), to ask what one received for forty bucks, using a jocular tone. Their response--damn, why would I ever think it would be otherwise?--was dead serious, beginning with the haughty remark that I must not had arranged any catered affairs lately. Catered? What are they talking about, "catered"? This takes place on-site so I wouldn't call it "catered." Anyway, they really didn't answer my question, which annoyed the hell out of me. I looked up Smithville's site and found that various buffets are offered for twenty and twenty-two bucks, tip and everything else included. Sent that to them with a comment that I may or may not attend, again in a light tone. I also asked if outsiders could come, as I may bring somebody. They wrote back that they could, again in a ponderous and somewhat censorious manner. Geez, we'll all be dead in fifty years; why attach such importance to something like this?
Actually, I'm not so sure I want to go. Why should I commemorate the most miserable years of my life? All right, there were some bright spots, but the constant judgmental crap, the back-biting, the striving to be like everybody else--. Hey, I'm well out of it and wouldn't go back on a bet.
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