1. I’m sort of bummed about the goings-on in my life. What should I do?
2. All of the news with the impeachment possibilities and the Russia who-knows-whats and the constant this-or-thats is making my blood pressure sky rocket. What should I do?
3. I’m considering learning how to play the oboe, but maybe I should commit to something that takes less time. What should I do?
Answer to all of the above:
Meet an adventurous friend at a mall restaurant for drinks and then TRY ON PROM DRESSES!
I never went to prom. I have no idea what prom is other than an evening where people go out and eat shrimp in fancy clothes (the people are in the clothes, not the shrimp), and then maybe there is dancing and some people might end up at a hotel because of the urge to have high school sex. Admittedly, all or none of these assumptions may be false or true.
Let’s back up.
I turned 47 last Friday. I celebrated a bit on Thursday by meeting a friend for lunch followed by spice and vinegar shopping. I treated myself to these two vinegars and every morning I drizzle a bit of one or the other into my water and suddenly I’m a happy water drinker.
Celebrating my birthday with the family on Friday was perfect and quiet and exactly what I wanted. My mom came up for lunch and flower shopping. I spent the rest of the day reading and knitting and drinking many cups of hot tea. My life is a good life.
Mother’s Day? Equally good. The four of us did what we always do, which is go out for coffee and then head straight to Home Depot for Mother’s Day plants. (We used to go to church for the pancake breakfast, but we haven’t attended since the year I accidentally hurled a glass of water at a baby.) ((Honestly? That baby deserved it.)) BACK TO THE PLANT: This year I went with a pink Mandevilla named Fran.
I’m hoping Fran decides to vine up the side of the pergola. I’ve had dreams of vining plants on the pergola since we moved in nearly three years ago. Be my special traveler, Fran.
Yesterday morning I met a friend for pizza and a discussion of A Gentleman In Moscow, which is a book every one of you should read. During lunch we experienced a lot of Me-Too!s and So-Do-I!s and it was just so perfect. After lunch I returned home and rested a bit to build up sufficient energy for a formal adventure where Adventure involves a martini and Formal implies a gown.
Tempe and I met at a mall for dinner and drinks at 630 yesterday evening. I had flatbread and a martini. She had a salad and sangria. Less than an hour later, we were ready for Tipsy Prom Night.
Lesson Learned: Wear flesh-colored underpants during Tipsy Prom Night. Also? Do you see that skirt? Well, no you don’t, because it’s NOT a skirt. It’s big wide pants, which are apparently very popular right now.
If I had kept up with my dream of being a concert pianist (the dream started with a scholarship in 1989 and ended a semester later because I simply couldn’t make it to class at 700 in the morning), I believe I would already own this dress in a size that would actually zip. Wait a second. Picture me in that dress. (It should be easy, because there is an actual picture less than two inches away from where you are reading right now.) NOW, close your eyes and listen to me playing this:
(I once took that Liszt piece to a piano competition and my fingers no longer remember it. Oh, fond memories and parallel universe daydreams…)
The red dress sort of worked, except the flesh-colored fabric over half of my chest kept freaking me out. (I was freaked out for the approximately 23 seconds that I kept the dress on.)
And then we had this one. I toyed with the idea of purchasing it because someday I just might be the mother of the bride. Wait. DO I SORT OF LOOK LIKE A SHRIMP IN FANCY CLOTHES?! I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!!!
Yet another successful Tipsy Prom Night! You’re the meaning in my life, you’re the inspiration. You bring feeling to my life! You’re the inspiration…
(I skipped the hotel on the way home because you can’t take the Baptist out of the girl.)