Last night was my neighborhood’s annual “roaming party,” which wanders from house to house — only two houses this year, I gather that it’s been at least 3 in prior years. I was, as usual, fighting my social anxiety and forced myself to go; at least I didn’t have to go far: the first leg of the party was across the street.
It wasn’t so bad, I kept thinking of ways to duck out and go home, but those thoughts gradually subsided. It might have been a side effect of Naomi’s egg nog, I don’t know.
The second stop on the party tour was around the corner where, it turns out, is stored the largest collection of holograms in California — at least, northern California. Some were downright creepy, seeing a living person captured in every aspect in a piece of glass. He had white light holograms, which can be viewed with a regular light; there was also a glass plate hologram that required a laser to view, and the sight of a laser rig with splitters and mirrors in the garage was unexpected… then again, this is Silicon Valley, and I’m sure that many garages here are equipped with scientific equipment.
The scary part of last night was how it ended. The conversation turned to the neighborhood and the challenges facing us — new development on two sides, historic preservation — and before I knew it, there was a core group of six people sitting in the living room discussing how to revitalize the neighborhood association.
Back in 1997 when I bought my townhouse in Arlington, I found myself on the homeowner’s board within a couple of weeks. I remained on the board — many years as president — nearly the entire time I lived there. Now I’m frightened that history is repeating itself. Three weeks after moving in to my new home, it’s deja vu. I just don’t know if I want to take on something like that again so soon. Of course, that didn’t stop me from speaking up and trying to steer the impromptu meeting into a useful direction. I’m a Leo, you know.
Today’s plan: sleep off the egg nog and wine. Drinks, Kirk, are a given and therefore not really worthy as blog fodder — that would be a bit like blogging about how many times I’ve breathed today.
