10.15.2009

canned friendship

I'm excited about the weekend. In part, because I won't have any grading to do (okay, maybe a little, but nothing compared to the last two weeks). And, in part, because we are going to see John Stewart. With friends. Yup. That's right. We've found ourselves some friends... I think.

Making friends in D.C. has not been an easy prospect. In part, because we were spoiled. Both Mr. Beeton and I had fabulous friends in undergrad, and when we moved on to graduate school, we found equally fabulous friends. Since coming here, though, it's been hard to connect with people. My campus is an "urban institution," so many of the people that I work with live far outside the city - commuting to work is a problem for them let alone coming back to hang out. Mr. Beeton is finishing up at a school outside the city. His commute is long (though fun on his Stella scooter), but he doesn't much care for going back outside the city in the evenings or on weekends. Of course, we have a handful of people that we met through his old job, mostly graduate students in the Chemistry department (hence, our connection with The Chemist). But, they were all part of a previously established group, and while they are gracious enough to include us on their outings from time to time, an old, married couple like ourselves are not their top priority (nor should we be!). As a result, we spend a lot of our spare time in our railroad apartment, petting Ella, and wishing that we lived in Savannah so we could go out for some Thai food and drinks with friends.

I told Mr. Beeton that I had an idea. One of my favorite bloggers, Shauna James Ahern, had written recently about a canning party that she had. I thought we should put an ad on craigslist. Mr. Beeton said, No. He finds the people who come to our house to buy our old appliances and furniture, chatting about the design of our apartment, creepy.

So, instead, we are going to dinner with two people who seem interesting and fun. And, if it doesn't work out, there's always John at the end of the evening.

Keep sweeping, Martha

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