I like Ann Arbor, or The fun of fun.

Last night, I decided to pretend just a little bit that I was still in college.  Just a little bit.

I headed to pretty, little Ann Arbor and found myself on the endearingly cluttered and filthy porch of Jack’s co-op.   I drank beer, jumped on couches, participated in group sing-a-longs, and danced my little heart away–sometimes even with an orange life saver (and I don’t mean the candy) as my dance partner.

It was utterly silly.  I was utterly silly.  Unabashedly silly, even.

Sometimes I find myself so caught up in the grownupness of my life–work, bills, responsibility, goals–that I often forget to just act like a fool and have a gigglefest.  Yes!–a gigglefest: to just up and dance on a porch and let everything else in the world melt away–if only for a night.

I guess it wasn’t so much that I was pretending to be in college as it was letting that very important side of me come out to play.  Just as it’s not to so much that I miss college as it is that I miss having a serious, serious amount of fun more or less built in to my life.

If fun is built in, though, it almost cheapens it.   Part of the fun of fun is the search, discovery, and creation of it.  And last night a searched, discovered, and created it with effin’ flying colors.

Of course, it’s not difficult when you go back to your college town and hang out with a bunch of funkyfresh folks, but there’s nothing wrong with going back to your roots–especially when they’re such colorful, tasty roots.