I love my friends. I have some truly incredible people in my life who have loved me and supported me through the past 5, 10 and 35 years. The more I do this living widowed thing, the more I've given up on people I wish were supportive me or simply cared. The bonus in letting go of those relationships instead of trying to force them and constantly being disappointed is it's letting my real relationships shine so much more. There's no whining and wishing when I'm with my friends because I've hit the point of it-is-what-it-is and so-what's-new-with-you?
I'm also giving up on some other things that haven't necessarily been working. Or, instead of trying to force things to look exactly how I think they should, I'm just letting them be. Holidays? Not doing them. Birthday? It'll be me on a couch. Bar nights? Now consist of me in sweats with a bottle of wine.
And this is how I didn't even try negotiating to get someone to go to the fair with me. People have kid commitments, work commitments, and money commitments. I offered to my fair buddy, expecting she wouldn't be able to (she couldn't). I wanted to go anyway. And so I went. Solo.
This is where we note that I am an introvert. I don't need other people to entertain me; even people I love and want around often end up draining me. I am perfectly happy - thrilled, even - to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else. Often, I hate being forced to be part of the group, follow a plan, and go along with what everyone else wants to do. I've discovered I actually can do exactly what I want to do, just as long as I'm solo.
Thus was my Fair Day. There was no plan. I woke up and enjoyed my morning coffee. Eventually I meandered to the express bus. No one was waiting for me. Wandered in the new transit gate and promptly got lost. No one cared. Saw mini-donuts and located the Grandstand. Spent all the time I wanted to in the museum and looking at all the heritage-store goodies. My first beer was a Fulton Lonely Blonde Ale (the irony cracks me up). Wandered thru barns and up to the bandshell. Was able to find a nice chair for just myself because I was just myself. Checked out the lumberjack show and moved on as soon as it proved less than entertaining. Hung out at the bandshell some more and a friendly Minnesotan was kind enough to watch my chair when I needed a bathroom-beer-run. Went down to check out the bullriders and wandered on out when I was ready for another beer. Visited briefly with a friend who found me there - because it is, after all, the great Minnesota get-together and you're bound to see someone you know eventually. Then, when the crowd was turning to young drunks trying to hook up, I finished my day with night sky, bright midway lights, and Sweet Martha's cookies on the way back to the bus.
And that was, hands-down, one of my favorite days ever - living solo.
