jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

I’m back in New York after three days of total disconnect, which were lovely. I was chatting with Sarah about her upcoming plans and she said, “…and then I’ll be in Connecticut for Sasha and Jesse’s graduation.” And because I have bad manners I said, “Ooooh, I’ll come too!!!!”

So I took Metro North to New Haven and spent three days with Sarah and the Greenspans that included getting to see S&J march and meeting many of their friends.

What a wonderful time. It must have shown because Sarah commented on how happy I seem. This was just after I’d done (I think) a very good imitation of these talking cats. My “Oh Don Piano” was particularly strong.

Allison and Joel, the girls’ parents and friends in their own right, proved once again to be generous beyond necessity. Once I got myself there I wasn’t able to pay for another thing. I’m 35, but it’s still lovely to feel looked after. I will have to think of a nice thank you to send to them, as well as graduation gifts for both the girls.

It’s always interesting to be on campus at a fancy private school, Wesleyan in this case. I went to the cheapest public school west of the Pecos, Northern Kentucky University, and it did well by me. But there was definitely a whole world in which I had no part. That of kids who take classes in things like Gamelan. There is plenty of spoiled rich-ness going on there. But either by benefit of education or cash or I-don’t-know-what I met tons of kids and most of them were more articulate and engaging than I am on anything other than my best day. Everywhere I was met with a look in the eye, a friendly handshake and sincere inquiries into my experience thus far. I don’t know how much they benefit academically, but it’s certainly a testament to the powerful social education of cloistered private schooling. And that worked out very well for me since I saw a lot of graduates this weekend and found them actually enjoyable.

My souvenir for the weekend is a sunburn on my chest featuring a big white circle provided by the shell necklace I was wearing. Who knew it was going to approach ninety degrees on graduation day?

Ah, peace and quiet. All guests are gone, Damon’s at a performance, it’s just 7:30 and I’m already in my pajamas. I may very soon put the pasta pot on the stove.

And tomorrow, I’m off to Connecticut to watch Sasha and Jesse graduate, visit with their parents and – most importanly – see Sarah before she moves across the country. I have never, to my knowledge, been to Connecticut. So that’s a bonus as well.

I’m taking the Metro North train to New Haven and once there I plan to exhibit baby-like helplessness while other people deal with things like picking me up and showing me where I can sleep. I believe Sarah and I are sharing a hotel room, which would be perfection.

Tonight she’ll be watching the season finale of Lost so that we can natter over all the details. And for everyone who hated it, or even for everyone who has more nit picks than excitement: I don’t want to hear it.

Tomorrow’s looking to be an all-round fun day. I’m working from home, and I don’t anticipate that my coworkers will be burying me with emails as it’s the Friday of a holiday weekend. At noon the cat shrink gets here to take all our money and make our cats be friends. My friend Kari, who is a booker on CNN, called this afternoon to ask if Jeannie Moos could come out with a crew to document the doctor’s visit. I was tempted but ultimately said no because a) I don’t need the mental breakdown I’d have trying to get the apartment camera ready. (I can hear my Mom calling from Florida to ask why we still don’t have that picture hung.) and b) because I don’t want a camera guy getting in the way and making it hard for the doctor to get a real sense of the situation. Cats are so sensitive, they’d certainly be wigged out. And we need this to work.

So after work and doctor I’ll head down to Chelsea to have an early dinner with my friend Hope, who’s vising her Long Island family from Atlanta. And then I’m off to Grand Central.

I feel like I smell baked potatoes. I wish someone would bring me one.

I’m watching “Ringers: Lord of the Fans” which I picked up from Glenn5’s Netflix queue. It’s… interesting enough. I find it to be hyper-produced to the point that I’m getting an interesting history, but no real proximity to the fans and their lives. I’d love to see how some of them incorporate their fandom into everything else they do. I do love the guy who said his favorite character is “Gandorf.”

Looks like all possibilities are locking into place and we’ll have Sasha and her college friend AND Bart Tuesday and Wednesday night. This will be a fun, weird little group.

The only rule I’ve laid down is that Wednesday night is the Lost finale and everyone in the apartment at the time has to either care deeply or pretend to care deeply. And everyone is required to cry with me if Charlie dies. Because I think I’m just about the only person who loves that guy.

And after the visits the fun doesn’t stop.

Friday afternoon our cat psychiatrist comes over to take all our money and fix our cats.

Saturday morning I plan to have breakfast with my friend Hope. Then I’m going to hop a train to Connecticut for Sasha and Jesse’s Wesleyan graduation where I’ll get to see Sarah, Alison and Joel. It will be delightful and I can’t wait.

I’ll have to poke around to find some graduation gifts and also run out and pick up some more groceries for the houseguests. At least we’ve still got cinnamon raisin bagels and garlic cream cheese. Mmmmmmmmm.

Last night my best friend’s young cousin and her guy friend spent the night with us. She’s about to graduate from Wellsley, he goes to West Point. Soon she’ll be traveling, and won’t live in Connecticut anymore, so they wanted a chance to hang out. In typical college-kid fashion, she didn’t call me until Friday night to ask if they could come Saturday and crash. But the truth is I didn’t really care. She’s a great young woman, a total pleasure to have around and I meant it when I told her she could come stay here anytime. Which is hilarious because now I think she’s coming back on Tuesday with a girlfriend. And that’s fine. There’s a good chance our friend Bart will be here Tuesday and Wednesday night for a Broadway audition Wednesday afternoon. We can comfortably host four (if with little privacy, as it involves the living room couches if we go over two) so it will all work out even if everyone comes.

This is what really marks the beginning of the pleasant-weather season in New York City — the houseguests return like swallows to Capistrano.

By the time it got cold last year I was starting to despair because it felt like we had guests week after week after week. It was hugely diffcult because it wasn’t like the same people kept coming back, it was always someone different. Someone we hadn’t seen in too long. Someone who’d spent precious time and money to get here. Someone who deserved our full and energetic attention. And after a while we really began to wilt.

But winter came and everyone started saying, “We’ll come in the spring.” We got a few months off to recharge, with no more than a few drop-ins. Now people are starting to send the emails or leave the messages and we are once again delighted.

So my advice is that if you’re coming, come early when we’re fresh. If you wait until October you may find we’ve planned a rousing weekend of watching Netflix movies and eating Chinese delivery for you.

And as someone who now has some level of hosting expertise, let me offer these two bits of advice/pleas to all houseguests everywhere.
1. Unless you are going to be totally out of your element, go ahead and make plans that don’t involve me. Telling me you’re off to have lunch with an old college friend is what allows me to get some down time and/or work done.
2. Make yourself at home. Really. If we’re close enough for you to stay with me, we’re close enough for you to rummage through my refrigerator, answer my phone, borrow my hairbrush, etc, without asking. It’s so much easier for me if you feel comfortable.