Juxtapose

Tonight:

Fun times with the utterly ridiculous "young adults" group. We did some of that stuff that all indie fundie Christian young adult/college/couples groups do - the games, the costume contest (I won, by the way, though Drewey probably rightfully should have), and good food - but then we just talked for a while, the way I like these things to go, and that was great.

Then off we went, at 10:30, to drive Sven back to his apartment. He successfully convinced us to come in and chill for a few (as we are apt to do) and that was good fun too. It's funny how some people you just somehow want in your family, and Stephen is one of those people. I love the way he melts into our family, how he is part of our family. I like having a big brother, because I never had one. What can I say - I love being surrounded by boys. It's always safe because they're around to protect me (if they're not playing HalfLife with their headphones on), it's always cozy because I can always grab a Chaz around the shoulders and bury my head in his hoodie, and it's always fun, because they don't gossip, don't care if I'm wearing anything good-looking, and they will always let me in on their fun, as long as I'm willing to cook for them.

So we all collapsed on Sven's couches, their cream leathery goodness enveloping our limbs wearied from too much ranch dip and apple-cranberry cobbler and Cathy's homemade and authentic Chinese noodles and chicken, though not necessarily in that order. What I said would be only a twenty minute stop-in at the apartment turned into a forty minute stop-over, but that's okay, because when we're hanging out, that sort of thing just happens. You always plan for twice the time you agreed on.

"Goodnight, Sven," and then we were in the car, in the cold, and I was squinting through the fog and frost on my windshield, waiting for the now-chilled defrost to clear it all up, and Drewey and I were switching radio channels and settling on oldies for a moment. The deejay promised to deliver the long version of CCR's "Grapevine," to which I grooved, but after the second guitar solo (extended version also, apparently), I swapped to listen to Dave Matthews, singing "Gravedigger," which is one of those sad songs that I have to use my gravelly voice with as I sing along. I didn't sing along too much because Drewberry was with me, and I think he hates it when I sing along - the sacrifices that I make... We listened to that, changed stations again, listened to some other songs for a few, and then, after all those, went back to the oldies station, only to hear (still) a rambling guitar solo, the same as before, still rolling along. We laughed. It was quiet for a while, just my Drewey and me driving home in the cold.

I feel like I have so much more to say, like I have to describe Drewey and quiet (even with Creedence Clearwater Revival in the background) and the cold and how lovely it was, but I tend to ruin things. If you can stop for a moment and take in the following sentence and just think about how that feels, then you'll probably get what I'm trying to convey:

It was quiet for a while, just my Drewey and me driving home in the cold.