I went to a bridal shower yesterday that felt like an episode of “The Fabulous Life.” The “unreality” began when the bride-to-be shared her engagement story: her fiance knelt down on the steps of a ivy-colored, white mansion surrounded by wild hydrangeas, located on his grandmother’s estate in Ireland, and presented her with a beautiful square-cut diamond that is roughly the size of County Cork. I listened to the details of the wedding itself, which is going to be a gala on New Year’s Eve. I watched the bride-to-be open Mikasa martini glasses, a complete silver tea service, and a ten-pound sterling silver serving tray, among many other impressive gifts (the word “impressive” not including my gift of a bundt pan). I also tried to look sympathetic when the same bride-to-be told a story about her unfortunate friend who lost her purse that contained both her Fendi wallet AND her Louis Vuitton wallet. Bummer! And then the clock struck four and I had to rush home before the stretch limousine turned back into my trash-filled 4Runner.
The morning of said shower, I anxiously tried to decide what to wear. Those of you who read this blog regularly know that fashion is a particular insecurity of mine, and this was compounded by my certainty that the bride-to-be and all of the other guests in attendance would impeccably dressed in fashionable and thoughtfully assembled outfits. So I looked into my closet and tried to find some combination of clothing that did not include a) practical shoes, b) something I have owned since high school, or c) hand-me-downs. As this turned out to be impossible, I have decided to ask Santa to bring me some new clothes for Christmas.
Today and tomorrow are inservice days at school, which means that the teachers come and talk all day long and the students stay home. My thoughtful administrators arranged to have a nice girl come and give 10-minute massages to all of the teachers during some of the workshop sessions. This girl was named Olga (no joke!), and, like I said, she was a very nice person…but the massage was incredibly vigorous and I was too proud to tell her to ease up, so now my shoulders are sore.
We worked a basketball game tonight and it was the stinkin coldest night yet. My feet are just now starting to regain feeling. It was a slow night, so I was not provided with my usual distraction of watching the drama unfold when people are not allowed to park in the lot of their choice. At the last game that we worked, one elderly gentleman actually threatened to sue Stephen! I just hold the rope across the drive into the expensive lot, so I don’t actually catch the flack, but I get a front row seat. It’s pretty riotous.
Okay, it’s late and this is long. I’m going to sign off for now.
P.S.–Our couches are being delivered tomorrow! The only possible hitch is that Sofa Mart will refuse to take back the loaners, since I recently singed the overstuffed chair with my iron as I tried to remove the wrinkles from my skirt while I was wearing it. Fingers crossed!