LOBSTER FEST

Well, made it home safely, otherwise this would be a pretty creepy post wouldn't it?

Got to sleep in on a sunday, which was pretty nice. I went to sleep early last night. I would have made it even earlier, but I forced myself to take a shower so I didn't go to bed at like, 8:30PM. I was so tired, and still am. I don't really get this.

The big event for the Pollack family on sunday? Lobsterfest. This basically involved 30 or so friends of mom and dad getting together at a cabin on Oglebay Park for lobsters shipped in live. We left the house on time, but had to stop at K-rogers for cilantro for dad's salsa. Liz and I stayed in the van, and I think the much-despised once-dated Scott was lo and behold parked right in front of us. Small world. Didn't say anything to him. He sucks.

I digress. We arrived at the cabin earlier than everyone else, so it was nice and quiet at first. I got a chance to show my ring to all of mom's overjoyed friends, and I felt happy. Then came the long wait for dinner, as friends poured in, and I--more and more--didn't feel like having lobster. I've got to admit, despite what should be a favorite food of mine (what with my love of shrimp and crab-cakes and most things sea-foody). . . .I don't like lobster. I think it's too much damn work for something that tastes too sweet. That, and despite trying to be all tough, I still feel really bad for the lobsters. A couple of the guys took out some live ones to try and race them on the rug--and it just made me feel horrible. Not only are we going to boil these guys alive. . .now they have to race for our pleasure? I just imagine how I would feel if I was one of them, and that's enough for me.

Anyway, my mood steadily declined from good to non-existent. I got told twice I had my ring on the wrong finger--i could have sworn Dave's mom said it belonged on the right hand, but maybe I was mistaken. Oh well. I like it on the right hand, and if I have to put it on the left I'll probably want to get it re-sized to smaller, as that knuckle is smaller. . damn. I just sat there, eating snacks and wishing it was time to go home yet.

My lobster was gross. I wanted to just eat my corn and roll and salad and be done, but I felt bad to waste a lobster, so I ate it anyway. More sitting around, more being bored. Finally, Mom, Dad, and Warren came over to chat, and it was about interesting things. It was in part the fifth time I had to explain my plans for grad school, but Warren asked more interesting questions, and I felt better after getting excited about prospects post-graduation. In fact, I felt fantastic after that. I noticed my pal Nick sitting all alone in the corner--he HAD been bustling about the kitchen all evening, so I decided to go find out what he was up to. He was staring off into space, expressionless.

"Amber, I am . . . SO drunk right now. And all I have to do is go home, gather up some warm clothes, and go to bed"

It looked like he'd been doing shots with the adults--a spectacle we both agreed was pretty neat. "we have really cool parents, you know?" he said. It's true. We're finally old enough to be allowed to see our parents drink heavily. And believe me, they do. not my parents really, but they all drink at least a bit, get smoochy and happy, and usually cut themselves off about then. Things were starting to get wild--One of the ladies exclaimed "EVERYBODY DANCE NOW!" every five minutes or so. The din of voices had been a constant sound all night. I went over to get a coke for the road, and she grabbed my shoulder, leaned in close--I could smell the alcohol now :)--and said "You know what lady? You're going to be ok. You are going to be O.K."

And then it was time to leave.