Finishing up my series of posts about The Big Weekend

A few weeks ago, Curtis and I drove to the Uno pizzeria at Potomac Mills to meet up with Julie and Sherri. That was a good, but surreal, experience. It was, as always, wonderful to see Julie and Sherri; that goes without saying. (I know, I know: So why did I say it? Yeah yeah ha ha shut up.)

No, it was surreal because, for one thing, after being joined at the hip for some time, suddenly we were 6 - 8 hours apart after we graduated from Virginia Tech. The only times I saw them after 1997 occurred because I was in VA or they were in SC for a bridal shower, or a baby shower, or a graduation party, or a wedding, and then I went back to SC or they went back to MD and/or VA, or we all met in NC for a weekend.

Now, suddenly, I'm an hour and a half from Sherri, 40 minutes from Julie.

On one hand, one BIG hand, that's fantastic. I get to see them a few times a month, rather than a few times a year.

On the other, it's so strange. Because I'd become reluctantly used to seeing them a few times a year. IF I was lucky.

The strangeness contributes to my belief that I don't really live here. I feel like I'm on an extended vacation. Every time I've been in DC, well, EVER, it's because I'm here for a weekend, a week at the longest, and then I'll be leaving.

It started in  1983, when I was in the Gifted Program in War, WV. The Gifted Program was one of the few things I liked about my childhood, for a lot of reasons, one being the yearly end-of-year trip. In May that particular year, we went on a trip to Washington, DC, which was the first time I'd ever gone. We went to a variety of monuments . . . we saw a show at the Kennedy Center . . . we went to the Smithsonian. My favorite was the Natural History Museum. Also at the Smithsonian snack bar: I had the best hot dog I've ever eaten. Not kidding. We also went to the zoo, where I was enchanted by this wee teeny antelope called a dik-dik.

That's a baby, but they don't get much bigger than a small dog. Like 2 feet tall. TEENY.

But I digress.

Later, when I was in undergrad at VT, I heard about these mysterious areas in The DC Metro Area, collectively known as NoVa. I imagined these places to be fantastic wonderlands. Reston, you say? No doubt the streets are made of candy.

During undergrad, I went to DC a few times, but always just for a few days, and it was one big party the whole time I was there.

Right before my exciting trip to San Francisco with Julie, I stayed just outside of DC with her. Again: big party.

After that, I found myself in the DC metro area every now and again, mostly for friends' weddings and wedding-related things.

Over this past year, I've been to DC quite a few times. In June, I went to the American Library Association conference, which was in DC. I was unemployed at the time, but I was looking for a job in the library field, and I believed that going to the conference would help me. I'd network, meet people, learn things. I could talk about it in job interviews. This would be great. Also, I could see some friends and look at a city I really liked.

Then, months later, I was flown up to the area to go to an interview for George Mason University.

I got the job, and flew back up to look for a place to live.

So for my entire life, and definitely for the past year, I found myself in DC many times, in vacation-y ways. I was there for weddings and all their satellite parties--dressed up, having fancy foods and champagne! I was there for educational purposes--visiting neat museums! I was there for career purposes--staying in hotels, exploring various areas, eating at restaurants!

Now, suddenly, I live here. Driving on the Beltway used to seem like an exciting adventure; now it's part of my life. The shopping centers had interesting names; now they're just where I go to pick stuff up. All those monuments and DC landmarks are just 30 minutes away; I see them on CNN, and it's somewhat jarring. I think "That's half an hour from me now." The areas I always heard about in undergrad (Manassas, Falls Church, Vienna) are demystified--they're just areas.

And there's a part of me that still feels like I'm on a vacation. That I'm going to stop staying in this time-share townhouse that looks eerily like my own home . . . and I'm going to pack up all of my stuff (strange how much I brought this time) . . . and I'm going to get back on the plane at Dulles (or was it BWI?) . . . and I'm going to fly back home to . . .

Wait, where do I live again?

Right, the magical land of Fairyfax.