Being a Part of Something

I have to agree with Kate. The Renegade Holiday party is always a great time. And it's an affirmation that I'm a big part of something special. For some people their job is just their job. But for me it's really become something of an extended family. I've spent five days a week every week with a lot of my fellow Renegades for a decade or more. My friend pool consists mostly of current and former Renegades. It's been a huge part of my life now for 14 years, and I honestly can't imagine life without it.

Sure I have bad, frustrating and all around @#$*%y days. But I have many more good ones. I don't mind getting up and having to do the "daily grind" thing, because I enjoy what I do, most of the time, and I get to spend the day with a lot of really cool people. It's nice to be a part of something where you know everyone has your back, and you're all pushing toward the same goal.

In the time I've been at Renegade I've seen the holiday parties mushroom from a gathering of eight to ten people (employees only) around a small table in a restaurant to huge catered shindigs with upwards of 60 to 70 people in attendance. It's really cool to have been involved with that growth.

Renegade Love

We went to the Renegade Holiday Party last night and as always it was a blast. I really love a lot of those folks. They know me so well and I really can be myself when I'm around them. It was even more interesting being there as a guest and not an employee. It was bittersweet; at times I was sad not to be part of the family and other times I was happy to have a separate life. I was a lot more open and friendly with everyone, especially the employee's wives and husbands. It was like being part of a new club of outsiders. Jason got trashed and I stayed somewhat sober all night so I could drive him home. I had so many laughs, meaningful conversations, and even got to get my dance on. I really had an amazing time and yes I miss seeing those folks on a daily basis, but it also makes seeing them at the occasional gathering all that more special.

Cinco De Mayo

Cinco De Mayo is such a funny holiday. It celebrates an event of limited regional significance in Mexico that is of no significance to most of the world and now holds claim as a legitimate holiday based solely on the fact that in Spanish "the fifth of May" rhymes. I think it's safe to say that most people in the United States (myself included until I went to Wikipedia) have no clue what Cinco De Mayo commemorates.

But it doesn't matter. Cinco De Mayo is great for what it has become. An excuse to get together with friends and enjoy yourself. A reason to throw a party for party's sake, one that you likely wouldn't have thrown otherwise. Cinco De Mayo is sort of like National Tuna Fish and Pasta Day. It's a holiday of questionable importance that, if nothing else, exists as an excuse to be happy.

The outlook for our Cinco De Mayo's, for the foreseeable future, is favorable. Our neighbor three houses down started a Cinco De Mayo party last year, our first year in this house, threw it again this year, and now plans on making it an annual event. She, and her friends and coworkers are all great people, so it's a great time. And we can get a little toasty (or in Kate's case this year, a LOT toasty) and then walk home. What a great holiday!

Interested in the sordid history? Here's a quick synopsis. In 1861, Mexico stopped making interest payments to its major international creditors. In response France and a few other countries attacked Mexico to force payment. During the second major engagment between Mexican and French forces, on May 5, 1862 in the city of Puebla at the aptly named Battle of Puebla, the much more larger French army was defeated, an army that hadn't been defeated in 50 years.

Horray for Mexico! A deadbeat debtor filchs on its debt, wins out over a legitimate creditor, and much blood is shed. It's your classic underdog story. But it was all for naught. A year later the French attacked Mexico City, occupied it, and placed a puppet emperor on the throne. So horray for France! An imperialist power succeeds in subjogating a nation over cash, continuing its hard-nosed domination of world politics.

Either way you look at it, Cinco De Mayo celebrates a silly little blip in world history. Better to erase the historical significance, or at least your memory of it with a dozen or so Coronas and enjoy yourself.

Good Hair Days

I have about a two and a half week window after a haircut where my hair behaves, looks normal, and doesn't have random gamma radiation freak-outs.  After that it's a crap shoot.  I have wavy/curly hair, which is akin to saying that my scalp is like a play-dough fun factory.  Add even a fraction of an inch to a lock of my hair and it can go from "plays well with others" to mad scientist devil horn.  And the further I trek from my two and a half week window, the further into Kramer territory I stumble.

So when I have a good hair day during my post-premium period, I really appreciate it.  Not to sound vain, but checking myself out in the mirror when my hair is looking fly (yes fly...that's how I'd describe my frock today) I get a confidence boost.  A little kick in the happy pants.  And having a good hair day gives me hope that tomorrow may follow the trend.  That there actually is a trend.  That good hair days have been scheduled for me on the calender of fate.  A good hair day is the tonsorialistic equivalent of winning ten bucks from a scratch-off ticket you got as a gift at your company holiday party.  It's unexpected, awesome, and easily lost after too much alcohol.