This weekend Blake and the girls and I went to Greg Wilson's housewarming party. Wow. I have never in my life been surrounded by so many accomplished, interesting people. Scientists, professors, a guy who was writing a book, millions of PhDs. The woman who owns Bakka books was there, for Pete's sake. Everyone was very clever and cool and I, predictably enough, felt pretty boring and lame. I think I aquitted myself fairly well, though, mainly by not saying very much.
It was a weird situation. In a way I felt totally out of my depth, completely outclassed, but in another way I felt like I could fit in pretty well. For example, I read New Scientist magazine. I have never knowingly met anyone else who reads New Scientist. (Apparently my friend Dmitri reads it too but it's never come up when I've talked to him.) At yesterday's party, three of the people in one particular conversation all read it, not counting me. But does that mean that I'm in their league or does it just make me a wannabe?
I dunno. On the one hand I think I'm pretty smart. On the other hand, I have nothing to show for it. Maybe I'm like one of those people on American Idol who swear they're great singers because their friends all tell them so, and then they open their mouths and it sounds like someone's violating a corgi.
Anyway, I'm not particularly good with other people's parties at the best of times so I think I did pretty well yesterday. I talked to several different people about different things, and I didn't make too much of an ass of myself. I even made people laugh a couple of times. The children behaved themselves and were gorgeous. And I have serious appliance envy for Sadie's induction cooktop. Gas is pretty and all but that shizznit is fast.