Out to lunch

If you know anything about me, and if you've read this blog for any length of time you have no excuse not to, you know I'm pretty much of a social butterfly. I wouldn't go so far as calling myself a people person, but there are people whose company I enjoy immensely.

One way I have of showing it is by scheduling lunch with them.

Here's the thing: besides my brutal good looks, my keen insights, my Twain-like humor (I was going to say rapier wit, but sometimes that word gets misconstrued) and my keenly honed sense of modesty, I believe the most valuable thing I have to give is my time.

Well, that and my Spiro Agnew wristwatch. That reminds me, I have to check eBay later.

Anyway, there are only five lunches in a business week, so I find myself being extremely selective whom I choose to dine with. I have a small circle of repeat lunches I try to have because I enjoy them every time. You gotta eat, but you don't gotta eat with just anyone.

As fun as it would be, I'm going to show a little restraint (just to see what it feels like) and not name names. But you know who you are. You're the people who always have a standing reservation on my lunch dance card, no matter how full it is or how far away you are.

I don't mean to sound like I'm saying people should be happy and grateful they're having lunch with me. In fact, I'm saying just the opposite.

If we're having lunch, I'm the one who's thrilled to be there. I value our friendship. It's something I've carved out time for, and you can bet I've been looking forward to it since we made the plan. Sure I'll have the occasional casual lunch with someone in the outer circle, but my heart's not really in it. If there's a raspberry tart for dessert it's a little better, but still.

Not only am I giving my time, I'm aware you're giving yours. I'm flattered and honored. And if you enjoy our lunches half as much as I do, then I enjoy them twice as much as you do.

It's just that simple.

State of the reunion

For as much of a social butterfly I like to think I am - and don't get me wrong, I can light up a room - I've somehow managed never to go to any of the reunions at the many agencies I've worked at. Sometimes it was intentional, other times circumstantial. The circumstances were I didn't want to go.

Anyway, a couple Saturdays ago, at the last minute, I noticed an invitation had been sent to me. So for once, I decided to get over myself and make the effort. I'm pleased to report it was well worth it.

For a little over two years, I worked at an agency called DBC in downtown L.A. It was during the time the city was blasting the subway tunnels under 7th Street, and they'd ripped up the asphalt and replaced it with wood planks during construction. One of the owners, Brad Ball, had a great line about it. He said, "L.A. is such a classy city it has hardwood streets." Still cracks me up.

Anyway, I know a few get togethers have happened in the many years since I was there, even one at a park extremely close to my house. But despite my polite refusals in the past, this time I decided to take the dive.

I'm glad I did.

I'd spent so long focusing on a few people there I didn't like - really didn't like - that I neglected to devote any brain space to the ones I actually liked and enjoyed, but had forgotten how much. I was happy to see all the faces there, and genuinely missed many of the ones who weren't able to make it.

As conversation usually goes at these things, we caught up on our current lives, as well as past ones. That's the beauty of reunions: they're moments out of time. Suddenly, you're with a roomful of people who can fill in the blanks about who you were, and what you did way back when (not always a good thing, but always amusing).

So, this is my personal thank you to all my friends who were there and made me feel so damn welcome.

And even though I can already feel my loner, anti-social, too-cool-for-reunion ways creeping back in, before they take over completely let me say I can't wait for the next time we all get together.

For starters, with any luck, I'll be a lot thinner.