The dilemma.

In typical me fashion, I have waited too long to update this online basket of mostly-laughter (that is mostly at myself) and quips (mostly ones that only I "get"), and now I have a dilemma. 

The dilemma is with the title.  

This might not seem dilemma-esque to some, but I like titles.  So it is one.

The first potential title, "Brandon hates funny girls." applies to February 6-10.

The second, "Hold on, let my grab my iPhone." applies to February 15-18.

Undoubtedly, both are of the "you had to be there" realm, but I've already typed like three paragraphs, so sorry folks, tonight my flat attempts are what you get.

Rather than do two separate posts on the same day, which is clearly lame, I'll combine two separate posts into one, and then post it on the same day (less lame, if you care).

So, first:

Brandon hates funny girls.

If you know him, you might think otherwise.  But don't be fooled.  Over the five days he and Ryan were in town, I kept throwing out random stories about random girls that all ended with, "she's hilarious -- Brandon, you would love her."  Finally, he confronted me about this.  Confronted is a mild term, really it was just yelling.  "WHY do you keep assuming I like funny girls?!  I HATE funny girls!  Sometimes I leave a date just yelling in my head, TOO FUNNY!!"  This shut me up, kind of.  I was still a little sore from the comments on my lost-ness while driving in DC ("Have you ever heard of a GPS?!"), so the blow to my matchmaking skills was a low one.  For the record, Brandon, my matchmaking finesse has ended up in one very happy marriage where both parties are, believe it or not, funny.

The being lost thing is notable, as far as the weekend went.  It didn't begin well.  I left work early and offered to pick the guys up from Reagan and drop them off at the hotel.  I printed from Google Maps.  I printed from the hotel's website.  But I was in a flurry, and I forgot them on my desk.  

I loaded the guys into Meriweather knowing pretty well that I was likely pretty lost, but I also decided to just attempt it.  Not a good plan.  It led to an hour driving around with a stressed-about-homework-due-Ryan, a supremely-laid-back-Brandon, an encouragingly-action-oriented-Spencer and a nice-yet-logical-Derek.  It all worked out when we pulled into a mini-space museum that both a) let us print directions and, b) let Ryan use their wireless to turn in his homework.  Love ya, DC.

I did set a bad precedent for myself, however, and any time I got behind a wheel for the next four days, we all knew it was a gamble.  Even with the guys driving, when Corie (an Arlington native) and I couldn't even get ourselves out of the neighborhood, you'd think I would seek help.  I laugh when I think about my recent sent texts after that weekend; they mostly involved, "Lost. Be there soon." or "Unbelievably frustrated. Lost."  I haven't been lost since.

In short, it really was a great weekend.  I pegged Ryan's future job, librarian-of-all-librarians, when we visited the library-of-all-libraries downtown.  It was great.  I turned a corner and found him looking winsomely at the gilt-engraved names of all the Librarians of Congress to go before him.  He'll be on that list, make no mistake.  

Side note: When we left the L of C, three eyelet-sheet-toga clad, laurel-wreathed homeschool kids (had to be) marched down the sidewalk toward the Supreme Court.  If you homeschool, please factor in the counseling needed in the future if projects like this are important to you.

It's great to be known, and I think that was the best feeling I walked away with from the several days of lost-ness and late nights and tourism.  Yes, it can be a double-edged sword, because when someone knows you, they know you, and this carries some terrifying trust questions. But then, when someone knows you, they know you, and this carries a breathe-easy sense of relief. 

It was great having Ryan in town.  He knows me.

And now,

"Hold on, let me grab my iPhone."

I have a problem with procrastination.  I always just think if I close my eyes long enough, someone else will make my plans.

Turns out that's not the way it works.  Luckily for me, that's not the way Jenn works either.

But that was my game plan for the NY trip that Jenn and I had been planning for either a month or a year, depending on perspective.  I paid for the procrastination in the form of a hefty Amtrak ticket out of Union Station on Friday night, but it got me to New York as quick as I could have come.  More importantly, it got me to New York in time to go to Mirai's birthday party.

Mirai is one.  Words won't do her dimples justice, so I'll scan my party favor (a picture with a message, "I thank you for coming to my party...Affectionately, Mirai") whenever I see a scanner close by and cite this post.  She's the daughter of one of Jenn's co-worker's, Thomas, and she likes to push chairs around.  According to her mom, Mirai has had spicier food at one than we gringos have had in our whole lives.  If the delicious Indian buffet was an indication (they said it was toned down for the white people), I think she's right.  Lunch was fabulous, as was getting to meet/know Jenn's co-workers at Deutsche Bank.

Before Saturday night, I had never been congratulated by an usher.  And I wouldn't have been if Jenn had followed my idea to "cut our losses and go eat dinner" rather than wait five minutes in the Wicked lottery line.  

We WON.

And we were congratulated from the minute we walked in the door.  When we slid into the front row, it made sense.  When we slid into the perfectly centered seats on the front row, it really made sense.  We just wished we'd had our iPhones to make everyone jealous.

Wish is a key word here.  Jenn and I had been playing it impromptu for awhile before Tracey named and claimed the game while browsing the Met on Sunday afternoon.  It's simple: whenever someone needs some instant bit of cool or useful or extemporaneous information, you say, "Hold on, let me grab my iPhone," and then reach for your scratched-up Samsung that came off the assembly line sometime in 2002, and mutter, "Oh. Wait."  

Like I said, Jenn is a planner, and she really is planning to wait for her iPhone.  She actually has a date picked out.  It's not till December, mind you, so she's still got 9.5 months of salivating over other people's iToys, but she'll convince you she's right.  In the end she'll be buying the new iPhone on the interest from last year's Christmas money (which I probably spent on valet at the mall on Dec. 26th).  It takes all of us to keep this world interesting.

The moral of this story has two parts: a) always bet on the lottery, you'll probably win, and b) if you have an iPhone, let the rest of us hold it every once in awhile, at least till we have our own in 9.5 months.