Austin and I are connected at the hip. We share everything at the moment: a volvo station wagon, a bank account, a bed, a macbook, and an iPhone (Ryan Hatcher had to take a picture of both of us on his phone because he couldn’t handle the surprise of answering a call from me and hearing Austin’s voice, something all of our friends have had to come to terms with). Of course, all of those things used to be mine, except for the car… and the bed. Okay, so we’re in a transition period, to put it lightly. But whatever you want to call it, we’re in it together. We’ve both just recently returned from a foreign country where we lived for 10 months, and we’re both looking for employment. Austin is praying for employment in Honduras, while my search is a little more wide-spread. Since I had been in the States a few weeks before I went to visit Austin in Honduras, I have been able to help him through the readjustment process a little. That doesn’t mean I’m adjusted, though; we’re helping each other, I would say.
This week our hip-connection has taken us to DC for a couple days. I had an information meeting with the International Justice Mission, and Austin’s two sisters, Abbie and Annie, live in DC. Our first stop was J Crew in Short Pump, so I could buy a new outfit for the interview. I decided, for the first time, to go with slim fit pants. As a direct result, the interview went well. After the interview Austin and I met up with Annie and our new friend, Brit. We went swimming (a daily theme of our lives) at Austin’s old neighborhood swimming pool so that Austin could relive his swim team and diving days, and then we went to visit the Deans, a family Austin grew up across the street from. The Deans are more family to Austin than most peoples’ actual families are to them. And now to the real point of this blog post.
Mischelle Dean, the incredibly hospitable and beautiful mother of the family, insisted we wait until five o’clock, which I protested (by napping until five). After the nap we ventured onto the Dean’s front porch. Mischelle then prepared us the cutest gin and tonics of my life. The napkins actually matched our limes. More than that, the gin and tonics actually had limes. I’m more of a simpleton, so, even though it’s my favorite drink, when I make it at home I’ll just squirt a little lemon juice in my drink, rather than going through the hassle of buying a lime and slicing it, or making the effort to go to the store to buy lime juice. So I settle on lemon juice, both words being incorrect ingredients in an authentic gin and tonic. But that’s what I associate a gin and tonic with: a lack of effort, or to put it in a better light: relaxation. And this gin and tonic was just that.
Later, after sitting on the porch for a couple hours, we (Abbie, the only one of us with a real job, had joined us by now) decided to take the relaxation to a local park with 3 bottles of wine, Peruvian chicken, blankets, where we talked and listened to Simon and Garfunkel on my meek iPhone speaker (please, Steve, I need a little more oomph in my speaker). Our first bottle was a 2008; so we talked about where each of us was two years ago. By the third bottle, we were talking about life regrets and opposite-sex deal-breakers. We stopped there (unfortunately, just after Hudson arrived on his vespa), around 11:30, to protect ourselves from any further depth of conversation. No one wants to be in too deep.
Transition periods and time of readjustment need times like this. You might think by reading this blog that this is a little in excess. But I disagree… obviously.