That Neighborhood Party: People

When we went to the progressive dinner last weekend, Matt's mother and brothers were in town visiting us, so we did not intend to stay out a long time. Normal Neighbor's house was to be the last stop of the night, so I told her at the beginning of the evening, "We're not going to stay super late, we've got a houseful of company." In the South, saying you have a houseful of company is understood to excuse any behavior, any lapse, or any absence. It could get you out of going to your own funeral. As the mourners stood around the empty casket, someone would say, "Well, I bet they have a houseful of company."

So yeah, we weren't going to stay late. Normal Neighbor and her husband laughed and repeated those words to me as we tripped gaily down their frozen sidewalk at 3 o'clock in the morning. That party sort of took off. Everyone was just so darn convivial. It was a nice mix of people we already knew and people we'd never met. I wanted to file a few reports on the people you've come to know here on SubMat.

Normal Neighbor: I really love that woman, she of the beer koozies with grosgrain ribbon around them. She is one of those women--and I don't know if this is particular to the South, but I see it a lot here--who really knows how to use her voice. I mean, her speaking pitch is really dynamic, and she uses it to great advantage. She is pleasant to listen to, and can give you a hug with her voice, or convey intense amusement, outrage, whatever. This is not to be underestimated. Also, she has never failed to be nice and normal. Her husband, a golf pro, is among the professionally gregarious. Those two like to party, if we're using "party" as a verb. They certainly do it like it's a verb.

Frenemy Neighbor: Frenemy arrived alone because her husband was "having symptoms." I was like, "Oh no, symptoms of what?" Then she said he had a cold. I was like, who talks like this? I steered clear of her in general, though I did get a lot of enjoyment out of a moment when another woman's husband was trying to hug her. I missed why this hug was occurring--it was a little aggressive on his part probably, like forced merriment--but she acted like he was covered with poisonous spines. Another friend from up the street--she has six kids so we'll call her Mother of Many for the time being--was complaining to me that Frenemy has been trying to recruit her husband into their multilevel marketing scheme. We shared an eye roll. Also, Frenemy was wearing a bright orange, really hairy scarf. She looked like she was being choked by a Fraggle.

The Mystery People: Okay, here's where I sound kind of weird. I spent a while with the Mystery Lady, sitting next to her at dinner and chatting. Even given her quirks and abrasiveness, I would far rather spend time with Frenemy than with this lady. Her husband seems just garden-variety creepy to me, but she left me kind of unsettled, with a cold feeling.  I mean, Frenemy has a recognizable personality, with recognizable human emotions, however awkwardly they are expressed. Mystery Lady seemed to me like someone completely turned inward, moving through a world of objects, trying to wrest her desires from the material world. My intuition is that the people in her life are objects to her too, with different purposes, in a utilitarian array around her.

She can make normal chit-chat, sort of, and smile when appropriate, but there is no animating spirit behind it. Really strange. They have had a series of au pairs in their house, so she told me a little about the au pair program, and about how you can try to bend the rules to get more than the allowed amount of work out of your au pair. Then she told me about how she and her husband met online, and their courtship, and I felt like I was talking to one of those automated customer service robots who simulates human interaction. The thing is, from seeing her daughters, I think that she has no idea how needy they are. It's clear that there is some kind of nourishment they aren't getting from her. Yet she looks pretty, her house is pulled together, and she's going around having an adult life. 

That's a lot to take from a dinner conversation, huh? Maybe I'm the weird one. I'll say more if I can figure out how to articulate it. I was just uncomfortable with her, in a deep way.

So we are all up at the mountain house, playing in the snow, which explains my blog slacking this week. I hope you are all managing to stay warm. Back soon!