Today I will complete my annual pilgrimage to Kimmswick. My chosen companion for this journey is a friend who will join me for lunch at The Blue Owl restaurant, and will hopefully remain patient as I use the word "antique" as a verb.

Although I grew up less than a mile from Kimmswick, I do not fancy myself a Kimmswickian. (I don't believe they actually refer to themselves as Kimmswickians, although I may suggest it to the Chamber of Commerce this afternoon... "Sometimes it's twickian to be a Kimmswickian.") Anyway, what I'm trying to say is: I will never make a batch of apple butter. Rock candy is not my gig. My home will never contain decorative geese. If wearing a gingham apron would cure the eczema on my eyelids, well, I would choose itchy eyes.

Also, I will never reenact Civil War battles while sober.

I make the annual haaj to my almost-homeland to relive some of my fonder memories from the late 80s.

I once marched in the Kimmswick Apple Butter Festival. (Alas! I was not the butter queen!)

I hung out in a Kimmswick graveyard on Halloween during my senior year in high school.

It was also during my senior year that a group of friends and I attended the Kimmswick Candlelight Historic Home Tour. I remember the night started out with warm Christmas-like sugar plum fairy feelings. It ended by us being chased by either a scary dog or a scary man dressed in faux Dickens-esque garb. (Old men in knickers!?!? Scary Kimmswickers!)

Today I shall antique and eat homemade fudge until my pants explode.

You know, I'm full of those "I felt stupid today because..." stories.

Jeff and I have been invited to a wedding. We received the invitation in the mail a few weeks ago, along with the response card on which you write your name and indicate if you want beef tenderloin or chicken florentine.

I want neither. I became meat-free one year ago, and although I joke about sucking on a Big Mac every now and again, I'm not planning on eating meat anytime soon. Becoming meat-free has been very tricky. My mom still calls to tell me about the great chicken sandwich I need to try at Wendy's. ("It's spicy!") Jeff's mom reminds me that I "challenge" her by not eating meat or foods flavored with meat. Because I am one of those people who constantly tries to please others, I often find myself standing in front of a mirror saying, "You're right. Pass the ham. I would love some bacon-flavored vegetables, thank you! Steak?! Bring it on, Sister!!" I feel guilty that I don't eat meat. How screwed up is that? It's very screwed up.

Anyway, I called the reception site yesterday to see if there are any alternatives. Luckily, they always have vegetarian pasta on hand, and there is no price difference. I quickly called the bride and left a message for her: "Hi. Jeff and I are looking forward to your wedding and call if you need anything, and hey! I noticed we have the choice of chicken or beef and I don't eat meat, and I'm sorry about that, and I called the reception site and they said for me to say vegetarian pasta, so I hope you don't mind that I wrote in a third alternative on my response card, and I'm sorry, and it won't cost more than the other stuff, and Jeff and I are looking forward to your wedding, and call if you need anything, and I'm sorry I'm such an asshole, and I'll understand if you want to retract the invitation. Did I mention that I'm an asshole? I am. Goodbye. Call if you need anything."

I quickly wrote our names on the card along with "One Vegetarian Pasta", threw the card into the envelope, and mailed it. It just occurred to me that I forgot to order Jeff's food. Damnit! So, the following phone message will be left before the end of the day: "So, me again. Um, something about remember that pasta thing from yesterday? Well, count Jeff in for chicken, even though I didn't mark it on the card, and we're really looking forward to the wedding. Do you need anything? One veggie pasta and one chicken. Florentine! Sounds fancy! I think I'll stick with the veggie pasta that was not one of the options you offered. Ha! Um, finger-licking good or something! I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. Call if you need anything."

They gave us sheets and no grief when we got married.
I believe their wedding gift from us should be five house payments.
Perhaps that will serve as payback for my meat adversities.

Time to shop for more self-help books.