Sunday, May 20, 2012

A Love Letter to SoRo

Yesterday, I had the kind of day South Roanoke would want to put in a commercial to attract people to our fair city. Couldn't have been much better.

In an effort to de-fluff, I decided a walk was in order before the day really got going. Asked the kids if they wanted to go, expecting them to decline, but Maggie said she wanted to join me. As we walked our three miles round trip, we ran into Mags' piano teacher, my tennis partner, Kirsten and met a new neighbor who moved in a few months back. We couldn't go more than a few minutes without finding a friendly face. It just made me smile.

We had a full day planned. First stop, the Taubman Museum of Art where there is a temporary exhibit of Faberge pieces. The lack of eggs, which is what one immediately thinks of when Faberge is mentioned, was a disappointment, but the items they had were beautiful and worth the visit.

[Note: OK - this next part might not make it into the commercial.]

For years, and years, and years, the children have begged and pleaded to go to the annual cheesy carnival held in the Civic Center parking lot each May. Until this week, I held firm that we were not going, no way in hell. But weakness, stupidity and a desire to make the kids happy overtook me and I said, yes, we would brave it. Not surprisingly, I couldn't convince anyone to join us. In fact, the suggestion was greeted with more than one response of open laughter.

But a promise is a promise.

I wanted to hide my face too E

We arrived and as I surveyed the scene, it was worse than I thought. It made the Salem Fair look like Disney. It was crazy expensive ($18 all you can ride or $4 per ride) so I suggested we walk around and decide which rides they wanted, after which we could purchase the appropriate number of tickets. Passing one hungover carnie after another, Morrigan commented that the rides seemed unsafe. By the time we made a full loop, Maggie told me, "You know, this kind of sucks. We should go to the pool." [It was opening day.]

Victory in our time.

Not needing any further encouragement, we high-tailed it out of there and went directly to the Club.


Which was delightful. There were tons of people there. The pool heater was on so the kids played happily in the water. I think the first hour might have been a continual loop between the slides and the diving boards. The feeling that summer was here and we were all in our happy place was in the air. Beers were being cracked by lunchtime. 

Honestly, I didn't think we would be there all that long but the kids didn't want to leave, which might explain why 5 1/2 hours later when I dragged them out I had failed for yet another year to make it through opening day sunburn free. All three kids, in spite of multiple reapplications, had pink shoulders. Maybe next year.

About the time we left, things were clearing out as everyone was moving on to Phase II: cocktail parties. While I have zero children playing lacrosse, I was invited to an end of season celebration, mostly (read: entirely) because it was Amy's birthday. We enjoyed some yummy bourbon slushes then about the time dinner was served, I skedaddled with Ann and Hans, ever tolerant of my permanent third wheel status when Tim is working. Our Cocktail Club was a few blocks away and we arrived to a party in full swing. 

The balance of the evening was spent catching up with friends and thinking what a truly wonderful neighborhood we have, full of community. I commiserated with Jessica about little boys not ready for 1st grade. Tyler and I talked politics and made our predictions about November (swear to god it was his idea - I totally didn't bring it up.) And David and I mapped out a potential election-based joint column for the SoRo Circle. I love knowing so many of my neighbors and having them as friends. 

An exciting day? Not by anyone's standards really. But just about perfect anyway.

2 comments:

  1. thanks for stopping by! loved the tales of beach vacation activities. you crack me up! now excuse me while I get back to 50 Shades of Grey.

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  2. I'm with you. It's like living in a small town, but with the advantage of city offerings and opportunities.

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