Long Live the Little Green Men!

You gotta watch out for people getting you back, especially the ones you didn’t even realize you “got” in the first place.

I’d left my dorm room unlocked.  I always left my dorm room unlocked.  There wasn’t anything valuable that could be taken with ease – my speakers were 5ft around – and my sorority-sisters neighbors were usually milling about that end of the hall.  But there was no denying that if I’d locked the door, I wouldn’t be dealing with this …. this what?  It wasn’t really a mess and was only slightly annoying.

Army men.  They were everywhere.  I opened my dresser drawer; army man.  I pulled down a shoe box; army man.  I put on a pair of pants and put my hand in the pocket; army man.  There was even one in the mini fridge’s freezer!  “He’s in Siberia,” my clearly guilty next door neighbor grinned.  I was finding those army men until well after I moved out of that dorm room.  Thanks Amanda.

But as I said, she was just “getting me back.”  Except, I hadn’t filled her room with army men.  No, the little green men first appeared elsewhere on campus, all over campus, thanks to another sorority sister, a trip to Leon’s and the dollar store that just happened to be on the way home. 

A tradition was born, and that tradition continues.

Mommy found one somewhere the other week.  Likely a remnant of   the attack of all attacks just before I left for Zambia.  There’s a lot of good hiding spots in a house with 3 floors.  They’re sneaked into the bottom of packages and carried along in suitcases on visits.  One of the original instigators’ daughter has her own toddler-appropriate army man.   Gummy army men were passed around for holidays and birthdays – I heard they were quite delicious.  One of my  sorority sisters even incorporated them into her wedding!

 

And this past Christmas, Alfred got me the most amazing and absolutely perfectly appropriate present.  A snowflake ornament made out of army men!  I love snow.  She found it on etsy.  It’s super cute and very ingenious.

Wedding Rules

People say there’s a certain age that’s the “wedding period” of your life.  The time where you are invited to a wedding every couple of months.  I’ve been stuck in the “wedding period” so long it’s the same people getting married again. So I’ve had to make a rule:

If I came to your first wedding, I’m not coming to your second.

Now, if I missed your first wedding, say because you eloped or I was living on a different continent, then I’ll come to your second.  I think there’s only one close friend who still falls into that category, and I highly doubt he’ll ever have a second wedding.

Luckily, none of my friends are giving Scarlett a run for her money, so I haven’t had to contemplate any weddings beyond the second.

My friend, Caitlin at her second wedding. I missed her first.

I wonder if I’d have this rule if I still lived in Wisconsin, i.e. closer to the people getting remarried.  If it didn’t take all day to get somewhere (or two days for these Iowa weddings) and didn’t cost more than the set of bridal party dresses to go, would I double-up?  Probably.  One of my recently divorced friends is thinking about moving out to the Bay.  If she should happen to find a new husband and get married out here, I think I’d go, even though I went to the first one.

Maybe someday when my school loans are paid off and my income’s a little higher, I’ll come to extra weddings.  But for now, if I’d rather take that day and that small fortune and actually visit my friends when I can talk to them and hang out and spend time with them.  For the second wedding, I’ll send a card.