![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
That SCA ritual
Aug. 31st, 2007 05:01 amDO you indulge in that SCA ritual, the 'dining out after the meeting' thing? Does it ever get old for you?
I ask because as an official member of the 'exiled with the fuddy-duddies' set it just now occurred to me (as it does every few months) that I don't have to sit at that long table down at the unpopular end and make Anime and computer conversation with teenaged boys...
It's funny, how habit and a sense of duty can kill the joy one takes in something like eating at a favorite restaurant. I think next week, it'll be a booth, or - gasp! - even just skipping the whole thing.
Yeah. MUCH more relaxing. Not that I dislike the children, mind you, but the weekly reminder that my era as a part of the group is over just, well, sucks. Or perhaps I'm just indulging in a bit of envy for folks making plans to go out together and having interesting conversations at one end of the table while I read beginner's Fantasy novels written in teen-speak and listen to stories about online role playing, steam engines, and their parent's genealogy research until I am far past my charity-with-humanity threshold. (Which proves, of course, that I need to work on expanding that capacity.)
Hey - you guys up North... can I go have dinner with you?
This whine is brought to you by the vinters of PMS and Stress Valley, home of good and poor whines of America for over fifty years.
[Edit: Having now gone and done laundry, ate breakfast, and kissed my husband goodby, I realise that those who are my friends (thems who call me as often as I call them, as it were) don't generally attend the after-meeting meal. Duh. Except for Opi, that is.]
I ask because as an official member of the 'exiled with the fuddy-duddies' set it just now occurred to me (as it does every few months) that I don't have to sit at that long table down at the unpopular end and make Anime and computer conversation with teenaged boys...
It's funny, how habit and a sense of duty can kill the joy one takes in something like eating at a favorite restaurant. I think next week, it'll be a booth, or - gasp! - even just skipping the whole thing.
Yeah. MUCH more relaxing. Not that I dislike the children, mind you, but the weekly reminder that my era as a part of the group is over just, well, sucks. Or perhaps I'm just indulging in a bit of envy for folks making plans to go out together and having interesting conversations at one end of the table while I read beginner's Fantasy novels written in teen-speak and listen to stories about online role playing, steam engines, and their parent's genealogy research until I am far past my charity-with-humanity threshold. (Which proves, of course, that I need to work on expanding that capacity.)
Hey - you guys up North... can I go have dinner with you?
This whine is brought to you by the vinters of PMS and Stress Valley, home of good and poor whines of America for over fifty years.
[Edit: Having now gone and done laundry, ate breakfast, and kissed my husband goodby, I realise that those who are my friends (thems who call me as often as I call them, as it were) don't generally attend the after-meeting meal. Duh. Except for Opi, that is.]
