Remember that scene from The Jungle Book with the vultures perched in some high-up tree?  If you don’t, or if you grew up in some place devoid of Disney movies, I reproduce it without anyone’s permission below:

Buzzy yawns:  Hey, Flaps, what we gonna do?

Flaps:  I don’t know. What you wanna do?

Ziggy:  I got it! Let’s flap over to the east side of the jungle! They’ve always got a bit of action, a bit of a swinging scene. All right?

Buzzy:  Ah, come off it! Things are right dead all over.

Ziggy:  You mean you wish they were!

    [they laugh]

Dizzy:  Very funny.

Buzzy:  Okay, so what we gonna do?

Flaps:  I don’t know, what you wanna do?

Buzzy:  Look, Flaps, first I say, “what we gonna do?” and then you say, “what you wanna do?”, they I say, “what we gonna do?”, you say “what you wanna do?”, “what you gonna do”, “what you wanna” – let’s do something!

Flaps:  Okay. What you wanna do?

Buzzy:  Oh, blimey, there you go again. The same once again!

Ziggy:  I’ve got it! This time, I’ve really got it.

Buzzy:  So you got it. So what we gonna do?

Dizzy:  Hold it lads. Look, look what’s coming our way.

Flaps:  Hey, what in the world is that?

Ziggy:  What a crazy looking bunch of bones.

Dizzy:  Yeah, and the’re all walking about by themselves

Buzzy:  So what we gonna do?

Flaps:  I don’t know– and now don’t start that again!

Buzzy yawns:  Hey, Flaps, what we gonna do?

Flaps:  I don’t know. What you wanna do?

As Mr. Apron has just said, “I think they’ll get the gist of it.”

This is precisely what happens when my college friends and I try to plan a mini-reunion.  I don’t go to the official ones, of course.  The only people I’d want to see are the ones I get together with anyway, and it just so happens that they’re coming to Philly this summer to see me!  Well, I”m just a sideshow, really, for the real reason they’re coming — some sort of ultimate fight club thingy, and a vacation that was supposed to go to Florida instead.  But still, we’re making plans!  It seems that this sort of wishy-washy waffling is endemic to the small, private liberal arts college we attended.  Mr. Apron sticks an adjective ending to our school and has made that a synonym for indecisive.  We just can’t decide.  On a restaurant, on a meeting time or place, or on plans for this weekend.  It took us 10 Facebook messages to pick a date, time, and location for an activity.  It’s a lot of, “Oh, I’m fine with whatever you guys decide, as long as it’s not Friday because I’m working late or Sunday afternoon because my boyfriend’s in town”.  To which another replies, “Well, we’re coming in late Saturday morning, so brunch doesn’t work then, but we can come out to the suburbs if you want.”  And then a third says, “I can come into the city; no problem.  Unless you want to come out and meet the dog and see our new house.”  And on it goes.  I’m as guilty as the next.  The third person was me, actually.  But I do grown weary  of endless voicemails or e-mails, or Facebook messages piling up without planning so much as a date.  And full of “whatever’s good for you guys”.  We’re all trying so hard to be agreeable, we can’t find something to agree upon.  And it’s no better when we don’t make plans.  We’ll just meet in some large East Coast city, at some easy, familiar location for out-of-towners, and just roam the neighborhoods.  Which is all fine and good.  Until it’s time for a meal.  And then it starts again.  “Whatever’s good for you guys” meets up with “Well, do they have anything vegetarian?  Oh, don’t worry; I’ll find something.” and “I don’t eat Thai food because of a bad experience once, but I”m fine with whatever.”  Sure you are.   We all are.  And it can go on as we reject restaurants left and right for being too pricey, too divey, too greasy, too meaty, etc.  Ultimately, my hunger/grouchiness drives us into some eating establishment.  So it was with the planning for this weekend.  It went on and on. 

Finally, I sent an e-mail with a date (Sunday morning, 11:30am) a place (cute little restaurant in upcoming neighborhood), and an event (brunch).  It will be done, I ordained.  Sure enough, I get a message back promptly: “That sounds perfect :)”  Sometimes you’ve gotta break out of your alma mater’s mold and boldly make a decision. 

Or maybe not.  I’m not sure.  Whatever you think.  I’m fine with whatever.

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