For a multitude of reasons, I nearly drove my relationship to divorce due to house preparation for my graduation. I wanted the house to be put together, clean, painted, personalized, and organized before May 14th. I had no nesting instinct with either pregnancy, but the end of med school, implying the beginning of residency, aka 80+ hour work weeks sure did the trick. If our marriage could survive the last couple weeks, it can survive ANYTHING. Let's just say, our energy levels do not quite match. And it wasn't just the end of school, it was the beginning of Summer vacation. I wanted to be free of any pressure I might put on myself to get the house in shape for the next 5 weeks. Also, many of my close classmates were from out of town and planning on staying with us for a couple days leading up to the event.
Therefore, on top of getting things in ship shape for guests, I felt it necessary that I host a little hang out session with food and drink as well since half the people were already at my house. But, for me anyway, all of this was worth is when Ashley Ascencio (a classmate very familiar with the usual condition of my abode) walked in and said, "Wow, Erin, I didn't even recognize your house!" Job well done, I guess. I nearly replied, "whatever do you mean? It is always like this..." But I have never been a good liar.
It brought me such pleasure to have 3 of my closest friends spending the night in my home. Perhaps the coordination of showering, the sharing of a mirror to put on make-up, the other girls around to ask, "does this look ok?" all brought back some nostalgic feeling from growing up in a huge family with 2 close sisters, or living with my 2 closest Indiana swimmer friends for 3 years. Or, perhaps it was the satisfaction one feels in being able to offer some kind of service to a friend; knowing you have made life easier for someone, if not for just a moment. Or, perhaps it was the opportunity to show off my adorable, little family; so that others could witness the hilarity of Brock, the happiness of Curtis, and the laxity of Matt first hand. But mostly, I think it was getting to spend a significantly increased amount of time with some amazing friends and share completely with them in the celebration of our accomplishment.
We ate. We drank. We shopped. We talked. We stayed up way too late. We got up way too early. We didn't take nearly enough photographs. (I have decided that this is the sign of a truly good time, who has time for pictures when you are in the moment, celebrating?) We laughed at Brock for unapprovingly playing with the sodas in the cooler, dropping one, quickly picking it up, noticing that it was spraying and throwing it back in the cooler then sauntering away. You could almost here him whistling as to attempt to display innocence. We graduated. We then parted ways. And moved on to more celebration with our own families.Meanwhile, my own mother scrambled to get her house together for the graduation after party, nearly driving her children to emancipation. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. She opened her house and prepared food for the nearly 70 guests that attended the event honoring both Leah's and my graduation. I loved the opportunity to share a moment with all of those who had supported me throughout my rigorous education. And I loved the food. Man, it was a good spread - with very special thanks to Mimi for the perfectly tastey and adorable cookies. And Annora for the yummy tortilla roll-ups, and gaucamole, and salsa. And Wanda, for making my favorite cheesecake as a graduation gift! And, of course my mother, quite a talented hostess. The house looked beautiful and perfect. Allowing for celebration with the first guest arriving at 1pm and last leaving just before 10. My kind of party.I guess, what I am trying to convey, is that this past week will go down in history as one of the best weeks ever. All of this due, not to my actual graduation ceremony, but to all of the people who made that ceremony possible and enjoyable. The joy and love that surrounds me on a daily basis, became so ostentatiously clear. If I were an emotional person, it would have brought me to tears and involved a lot of hugs and kisses. But, alas, I am not. So, all I can do is attempt to convey my love and appreciation in writing. I love my families, intensely. And yes, I meant intensely, not immensely, as that is the way I roll.
And yes. My mother did her first keg stand. And liked it.