a. drive the same car as me (this accounts for four other people),
b. are library patrons or employees,
c. are associated with the cross-country ski club or speed skating club,
d. work with my husband (and even then it's not a given that I know their names),
e. once threatened to kill their dog for my benefit after myself and two girlfriends complained that the dog was behaving aggressively toward us on a regular basis (okay, this only happened once, but I still think badly of this nutbar whenever I see her. "Just put your dog on a fuckin' leash!" my friend G. yelled at the woman and I will forever love G. for having the grace, style and attitude to look like a badass while pushing a stroller ),
f. work at the dog kennel or vet and take excellent care of my pets,
g. work at the bank or grocery store or rec centre or dental office,
h. have lived on my street for longer than two years (this is how long it takes for new neighbours to imprint on my brain), or
i. have children the same age as my two sons.
This weekend I engaged in two activities that made me realize that I do know a lot of people.
The aforementioned speed skating club is having a raffle and we were at the mall selling tickets on Saturday for two hours. Turns out I know lots of people and many generously bought tickets from our table. I felt like I did have a social circle.
Also we were very impressed with Zarf. He took a clipboard and walked up and down the mall selling tickets. There is no way myself or Mr Wrath would have had the confidence or initiative to do this at age 9. Shit. I'm 38 and found it uncomfortable to passively sit at a table and sell tickets.
The second social-life affirming outing was Mr Wrath's office Christmas party. On twitter I mentioned dreading this event, and several women commented that they'd love an opportunity to dress up and have an evening of sophisticated, adult-only dining and dancing. While this is not EXACTLY how I would classify an evening at the Legion (knotty wood wall panelling FTW!), I did enjoy myself. I wore high heels. Sure they were only two inches, but that's high for me. Mr Wrath even consented to dance with me. This is impressive because:
a. I'm a energetic, but spastic dancer, and
b. he holds a position of authority at his workplace and it's got to be tough to go back to work on Monday knowing that you are now going to be called "the guy whose wife makes Elaine from Seinfeld look smoooooooooth."
Sweet fancy Moses, indeed.