(Could have sworn I set this to automatically publish at noon, but whatevs.)
I recently dreamt that several of my high school friends and I were having a Pringles party at Knott’s Berry Farm.
Knott’s Berry Farm is a local amusement park, near the house I grew up in. It’s famous for having been an actual berry farm in the old days, and still sells its fantastic brand of jams and syrups (seriously, if you ever want your mouth to love you forever, pick up some Knott’s boysenberry syrup).
Pringles, as I’m sure you are aware, is a brand of potato crisps that come in a tall can resembling tennis ball canisters. It also happens to be one of my favorite kinds of crisps (after Zapp’s and Tim’s Cascade). There are so many different flavors of Pringles it’s hard to keep track of them all, hence their aptness as party food. (In my dream each person brought two different flavors and we all ate them merrily.)
My high school friends, at least most of the ones in this dream, aren’t really people I hang out with anymore. Of course it would be difficult, since I’ve been living in a different state for the past two and a half years, but even before that I was well aware I would probably never see them again. It’s not that I don’t like these people, it’s just that they knew and I knew the only reason we were friends was because we had been in the same classes since elementary or jr. high school. While we were all stuck in the same place, we might as well have had fun with each other. But now that we can choose where we want to be it’s quite obvious we want to be different places. So now I see pictures of them all hanging out together, because they’re still friends with each other, and every once in a while I get a Facebook message asking how I’ve been (but that mostly happened during the first year after we parted ways), and I feel absolutely no regrets that I don’t really keep in touch with them.
Because I did keep in touch with the friends that mattered most to me. Those are the people I can’t wait to see when I make my triumphant return to California tomorrow night. Those are the ones I want to share Pringles with at a picnic table in Knott’s Berry Farm. And those are the ones I dedicate this rather odd entry to.
Always enjoy ending a sentence with a preposition,