Back during law school, I used to get a couple invites each year to people's parties. Birthdays, end-of-exams, Superbowl parties, you name it.
And I used to flake out on every single invitation. Seriously, I don't think I attended a single party during the entire law school experience, unless it was somehow related to schoolwork -- i.e., an all-night Bluebooking party for the Fed Circuit Bar Journal.
I know, I'm totally hip.
So when I got the invite to Tracy's birthday party, I realized that my days in the law school cocoon are over, and I can emerge as the diva socialite I was born to be.
Or, more accurately, I realized there would be miniature cupcakes.
And I do not ever turn down a miniature cupcake. Ever.
Tracy and her husband Dan (below) live really close to the first apartment where Steven and I lived when we first moved to this area. Driving up to the building, we started seeing all the old haunts -- Pizza Roma, the Starbucks right by school, our old apartment complex.
It reminded us of just how much work it took to get here, but it also made us really proud of how far we've come. Steven loves to tell the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich story to everyone -- it goes something like this: He worked in Tysons Corner and in the mornings, I would pack him a little brown bag lunch with a PB&J, chips, and a soda. He'd go to work, eat half the sandwich and the chips, and save the rest.
While he was at work, I'd be in Torts class, Property class, etc. After class ended at about 4 PM, I'd head over to the Arlington Outback Steakhouse (the beginning of my prestigious law career, you see) to work a night shift. I'd tie on my apron and take my Torts book into the kitchen, set it on a shelf, open it to the assigned reading, and read a page or two everytime I walked in and out of the kitchen, filling up people's iced teas and memorizing the elements of negligence.
Steven would show up about halfway through my shift, with that brown bag from his lunch, containing the second half of the PB&J. And I'd scarf it down as fast as I could, and then I'd look at him with puppydog eyes and ask, "It has to get easier than this, right?"
Forever the optimist, Steven always reassured me that we'd make it.
And sure enough, we did. Made it through law school and even a couple of bar exams, and now we get to go to birthday parties in high rise buildings. Sweet!
Tracy, I have to admit, your building is much cooler than our little walk-up was. We are secretly in awe of the elevator. So luxurious! (Also, the mirrored doors are helpful for making sure I didn't have lipstick on my teeth before I showed up on your doorstep. Thoughtful of your landlord to install those.)
Oh, and here's the birthday girl herself! This was a big celebration -- we also recently found out that Tracy passed the DC Bar Exam. What a week!
A few other friends from school arrived, and I got to show Mullaney and Amanda the wonders of the "blog camera." They are so totally impressed, can't you tell?
We pestered Sean for investment advice, given that he "knows stuff" about "finances" and what not. His sage wisdom? "Buy low, sell high."
Actually I think he said something about Vanguard, but I forget. My money's safe in my mattress, Sean -- no worries.
Happy Birthday and Bar Exam Passage, Tracy!