Not Cool

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Last night we went to dinner at the boy's gf's apartment. She lives above her grandparents' garage in a part of town that had been allowed to run down but is now revitalizing. The apartment had 2 good-sized rooms, an adorable tiny oven, lots of window, her cat, 2 stuffed bookshelves and no TV. We ate and talked and awkward silence, which was good. Of course, we've known her for 8 months now, and she eats dinner over here at least once a week.

Then we went "next door" to meet her grandparents. To do so we walked across a courtyard type patio, with a brick gateway. They had an arbor with a long wooden table great, I imagine, for dinner parties, and another section of the patio with about a dozen chairs pulled into a circle for more socializing (remember, I'm a hermit, so this fascinated me.) We walked into the mudroom/laundry room where they had state of the art washer and dryer that I covet, then into a very Tuscan-style kitchen, where the coffee maker had its own table. (No cabinets at all, though. That would make me crazy.) The three story house that they've restored isn't what made them cool, though.

They do stuff.

They belong to the community garden. They distribute community newsletters. He plays in a band (I know, my dh does too) but his wife goes to see him. I presume she goes with friends, but since I love my friends, I don't think I'd want to subject them to the dh's music. They go listen to live music. When the conversation steered into music, I was completely lost, though the rest of them knew what was going on.

So the grandmother asked if I watch a lot of movies. (How did she know???) Yes, I told her, and TV, too.

When the dh and I were driving home, I told him we weren't cool. Heck, he doesn't like to go to the store once he gets home from work, much less to go listen to music. Maybe next time Dara's grandpa's band plays, we can go.

Another thing....they just got back from a trip to Southern Ontario, Canada, and they went to this campground/vacation cabin type place that had been mysteriously abandoned years ago--plates were even left on the table. I'm intrigued by this but can't find any info. Anyone know anything about this?

Anyway. I like my life. It suits me. I love my house and my neighborhood. But it would be nice to not be in a rut, you know?



Marianne Arkins said...


I'm not cool either. Do you suppose most writers are uncool? That we only do stuff when we're forced to?


I was WAY cool when I was younger. I had season passes to a local off-Broadway theater and to a local comedy club. I taught country dancing at a local bar.

What happened to me?

MJFredrick said...

Maybe we don't do cool stuff because when we're not writing we feel guilty? I mean, we're not BORING because, dang, you're busy with your businesses and your writing and your yard (another skill I wish I had) and I do stuff. Maybe the appeal is that their life is so different?

Neat about the season passes. Sounds fun. Hey, I'd love to learn country dancing from you---if the dh would ever go dancing. THAT is part of it, too, that he doesn't like to do stuff, either.


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I'm a mom, a wife, a teacher and a writer. I have five cats and a dog to keep me company. I love bookstores and libraries and Netflix - movies are my greatest weakness.
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