Juggling Class

I joked with my babysitter about going to the meetup the other day when I walked him to his car, joking about who I am and what I talked about. “I hope I was polite enough,” I told him. “I am too thuggish for polite and yet too polite to be a thug and I always think I offend.” “I know, me too.” He means himself, that he has the same issue. I don’t even have to say anything else. We laugh. What else can we do?

Today I worry to a member of this organization that we are not reaching people who need us the most, with the vetting and the way we do meetups in restaurants – usually more expensive dining. “Not everyone can afford dinner out once a month.” Were my words. “Surely they can, just once a month?” He asks and then says “Maybe I am out of touch?” He is out of touch. I tell him so, without fanfare or surprise. He proves my point.

It would cost me a month’s pay to attend every event this year – using the cost of this first meetup as the average. I am still going to go. I will miss some events from weather, unavoidable where I live. An understandable excuse.

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