What Time is It, Anyway?

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm perpetually running late. Many times, I'm right on time, which is my preferred state of being. Often, however, I'm about 5 or 10 minutes late. I realized this morning, when I was about two minutes early to coffee at Fido with my friend Andrea, why I hate to be early.

First of all, it makes me nervous. I go into a slight panic if I'm the first to arrive. I automatically think I have the wrong location, and I begin rechecking my calendar, rechecking e-mails and, inevitably, I phone a friend.

I have several friends who are just like me in this regard, and they are always understanding. I can pretty much always count on them to be later than I am for our meetings. I also have friends who are the extreme opposite and make it a point to arrive early to everything. Not to name names, but Margie and Joy have informed me that it pains them if they are not early... by at least 10 minutes. They get as nervous about being late as I get about being the first to arrive.

I don't know why this is, but I suspect, like so much in life, it goes back to childhood. My mother was almost always late to pick me up from things. I was almost always the last one to be picked up at the skating rink, the arcade, school... you name it. But I'm not bitter. In fact, writing this just made me realize from whence my fear of abandonment comes. Eureka!

Sort of weird, don't you think, that I ever went into a deadline-driven business. I've realized something about that, too, though. This business of deadlines and speeding all over town to get somewhere right on time and procrastination (yeah, did I have to even mention that I also like to procrastinate?)... this is what motivates me. I need pressure and deadlines to operate on all cylinders. I don't know whether that's good or bad, it's just how I operate. My ex-husband and my ex boss hated this about me. See the pattern?

Which leads me to my final point. We're all made just a little differently. We all get things done in our own ways. None of us are perfect. So cut me some slack when I'm late, praise me when I'm early and pray for "right on time."

The Face of Things

Thank you, Joy, for the introduction to Chimay Ale. This delightful champagne of beer is just the new drink I was looking for. It's different, it's delicious and it's not a martini but tastes and looks nice served out of a martini glass. Plus, I like the bottle. Very hip. Just my speed.

I may even add it to my Facebook page as a favorite item and really get the talk going. Because let's face it, Facebook is out of control. Seriously, it's taking over people's lives and capitalizing cocktail conversations worldwide.

Last night, at a gathering that was organized via wall-to-wall posts on Facebook, I got together with old friends Joy, Kim, Kris, Novella and Katie at Katie's nice, new house somewhere between the burbs "Bum" and sounds like "Duck." Thanks to Facebook, we were already semi up to speed on each other's lives since the last time we all got together some two or three short years ago. But there were holes that needed filling. Like, when did Katie have her fourth child?! And WTF is Kim's last name now? And what do you mean, Novella, that you're selling everything and hopping in the car with no real destination or plan?! And why, Kris, won't you just go ahead and sing us a karaoke song?! And since when, Kriste, did you get a divorce?!

Throughout the evening, Facebook kept popping up. We chatted about each other's 25 Things lists (apologizing to those whose lists we hadn't yet read). We talked about people's pictures and kids and random friends that have recently made it to our invite lists. We wondered how some people in our collection of Facebook friends do anything but troll the site and post comments. Still others have had offline conversations about how they don't understand some people's status updates (hey, if you don't get my updates you really don't need to be my friend). And then there's the whole issue of "defriending." It happened to Katie. She was defriended by an old friend who shall remain nameless (you know who you are you messed up mess). It happened to my friend Margie, too. I defriended a woman, but that was only because she was a whack job and was scaring me! And then there's my friend Kym Gerlock, who just decided that Facebook was too much and dropped off altogether. The nerve! I'm starting to think she may be onto something though. I casually keep up with Facebook, and I try to keep up with people's new posts and comings and going and postings to my wall and such, but frankly it's a little too much sometimes. I've found that some people take it personally if you don't respond for a long time. They think you're mad at them or something. But if I'm mad at someone, I'll usually tell them rather than go all Facebook passive aggressive on them.

It does make me wonder, though, what would happen if I just up and defriended everyone one day? I mean honestly. How long can this Facebook thing go on? I can barely manage the 289 friends I have. What's going to happen in say, 10 years, when that number has doubled? Or, what if I've made everyone so mad at me by then by not posting to their walls or commenting on their status that I'm down to a handful of friends who really aren't friends at all? I know one thing, my girls from Clarksville will always be my friends. They're smart. They're sassy. They're funny. And they feed my soul.