Happy Hour
All angst bets are off! I had a great time, therefore, wearing the bra was worth it.
I was able to use the hotel printer for the directions. Yay! Because I knew that writing all that down would have caused more trauma than I needed.
I forgot that downtown FW is all one way streets. And wouldn't you know that the one street I decide to head down the wrong way was blocked by a traffic control officer. He took one look at my bluetooth in my ear and told me to get off the phone and pay attention. I yanked it outta my ear and said, "I'm not on the phone." It probably wouldn't have helped to say, "I am not from here anymore and still don't understand the one-way street thing. I am finally adjusting to the PacNW screwed up street naming system with NE, NW, SE and SW with breaks in the streets for blocks and that Avenue means the street goes one way, Street means another way and Place means you are fucked!" Nah, I knew that would not be a good blurt.
Anyway, I found the hotel, still had to walk around to find the bar and was ready for my entrance blurt of "Sweet Mother of God!" to Peg and Brian. We performed our obligatory scream jump holler and hug dance - much to the chagrin of the older and younger couples in the room. I also refrained from blurting at Peg that I couldn't stand next to her because she looked so good and made me feel short, fat and old. (Wait a minute, I AM short, fat and old. Nahhhhhh.) Peg was gracious, bought me a dirty vodka martini. They were both gracious and allowed me to practice my "the last 30 years of my life" with full accompaniment and choreography.
Then, it started to rain and the roof dripped on them. It wasn't until the ceiling dripped on me when I said it was time to blow the popsicle stand. Peg apparently believes that running in the rain is preferable to getting wet. Being from Seattle, I am ok with wet. It was while she was running that I hollered she was skinny enough to dodge the raindrops. She told me to shut up. Gawd, I love that woman.
We got to the bar, made our way to the back. Some people I knew right off. Some tested me - neener neener, Scott. And some saw through my feigned recognition and introduced themselves. Yes, Sharon told me who she was and I almost knocked her back onto her couch, with an unbelieving, "No shit!" (Yes, sports fans, I was at my non-G-rated best.)
Seeing these folks was a treat. The familiarity was there, but there was also that sense of "we're not in high school, so screw the angst. Let's catch up."
Peg and I had a great time dancing to Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline. Kristy K will call me out for a dance out. The women have that marvelous mature (not the same as old, dammit) beauty. And the guys continue to look at us with that resigned, "Yes, we know they're goofy." We seem to be comfortable with ourselves. This easing into the situation has made it so much easier.
I made it home all right. Spoke to Himself ("You married a freshman?!") who played open mike at The Grove.
I'll wear the bra tomorrow night, too. Boy, you guys are so lucky....
I was able to use the hotel printer for the directions. Yay! Because I knew that writing all that down would have caused more trauma than I needed.
I forgot that downtown FW is all one way streets. And wouldn't you know that the one street I decide to head down the wrong way was blocked by a traffic control officer. He took one look at my bluetooth in my ear and told me to get off the phone and pay attention. I yanked it outta my ear and said, "I'm not on the phone." It probably wouldn't have helped to say, "I am not from here anymore and still don't understand the one-way street thing. I am finally adjusting to the PacNW screwed up street naming system with NE, NW, SE and SW with breaks in the streets for blocks and that Avenue means the street goes one way, Street means another way and Place means you are fucked!" Nah, I knew that would not be a good blurt.
Anyway, I found the hotel, still had to walk around to find the bar and was ready for my entrance blurt of "Sweet Mother of God!" to Peg and Brian. We performed our obligatory scream jump holler and hug dance - much to the chagrin of the older and younger couples in the room. I also refrained from blurting at Peg that I couldn't stand next to her because she looked so good and made me feel short, fat and old. (Wait a minute, I AM short, fat and old. Nahhhhhh.) Peg was gracious, bought me a dirty vodka martini. They were both gracious and allowed me to practice my "the last 30 years of my life" with full accompaniment and choreography.
Then, it started to rain and the roof dripped on them. It wasn't until the ceiling dripped on me when I said it was time to blow the popsicle stand. Peg apparently believes that running in the rain is preferable to getting wet. Being from Seattle, I am ok with wet. It was while she was running that I hollered she was skinny enough to dodge the raindrops. She told me to shut up. Gawd, I love that woman.
We got to the bar, made our way to the back. Some people I knew right off. Some tested me - neener neener, Scott. And some saw through my feigned recognition and introduced themselves. Yes, Sharon told me who she was and I almost knocked her back onto her couch, with an unbelieving, "No shit!" (Yes, sports fans, I was at my non-G-rated best.)
Seeing these folks was a treat. The familiarity was there, but there was also that sense of "we're not in high school, so screw the angst. Let's catch up."
Peg and I had a great time dancing to Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline. Kristy K will call me out for a dance out. The women have that marvelous mature (not the same as old, dammit) beauty. And the guys continue to look at us with that resigned, "Yes, we know they're goofy." We seem to be comfortable with ourselves. This easing into the situation has made it so much easier.
I made it home all right. Spoke to Himself ("You married a freshman?!") who played open mike at The Grove.
I'll wear the bra tomorrow night, too. Boy, you guys are so lucky....