bells ringing

My two year old nephew has recently asserted the power of a common phrase, "What about me?" On last week's family fishing trip to Montana, we talked about going fishing or hiking, or any other activity, to which came from the back of the rented twelve passenger van a sweet and ernest "What about me." Fortunately, while Nathan may have protested to not getting to fish, he also won't remember whether or not he did the next day. We're all just glad he's integrated pronouns into his speech. Previously in such situations, he would let out a demanding, "Nat-an do it."

Seems around these parts I find myself thinking like Nathan from time to time. Most especially as I have reached my 23rd year (24th, really). My parents seem to be saying "What about you" a LOT more than I do, though. During the past two weeks, a rash of engagements, well, actually two - one of my dearest friends from High School and one of six coworkers have become engaged. More shockingly, those two, along with another long-engaged coworker (all female) are all getting married in August. Today, some of us ladies from work went shopping for wedding dresses, and myself and the other non-engaged coworker felt the pull of wanting to try them on. It reminded me of being in Jr. High, dropped off at the mall by a mother, my best friend and I would try on dresses for fictional proms. It was great fun. Something about actually putting on a wedding dress seems more daunting and cerimonial. We resisted the urge hesitantly, as our curiosity continued. Perhaps, just like Nathan, a bit too young or just not quite ready enough to wield a fly rod, I'm not prepared to don the dress. But somehow, when the talk is fresh and sparkly white satin surrounds, it's easy to get caught up in the "what about me?"