Let’s see. Where was I. Oh, yes, I was on the phone with my sister.
“I don’t know what to wear.”
“But is it a date? That’s how you’ll know what to wear.”
“I don’t know. How should I know?”
“Is he picking you up at your house?”
“No, we’re meeting at the theater.”
“Is it just a movie, or is he taking you to dinner after?”
“Just a movie. Although I have a sneaky plan for suggesting we go have a drink afterwards.”
Continue reading clicking. sparking. not hugging. (part three)
I believe Our Story, the one demonstrating that love is not always at first sight or even tenth sight, last ended when I was entangled on a sofa at the 1920s Club with three or four other women, having what was later dubbed the notorious Mormon Lesbian conversation, in which we realized we all could not marry each other because we liked the menfolk too much to forsake them.
Tomorrow night the Austin Bloggers group is meeting at Opal Divine’s. My boyfriend and I are probably going.
Tomorrow will mark 13 months, to the day, since we first met. At Opal Divine’s.
It isn’t a very romantic story. It does not involve any sparking, clicking, or magical music playing in the background. It is remarkable only because it is so unremarkable.
Continue reading clicking and sparking are just special effects (part one)
I realized I had better write something that isn’t a movie review, even if it’s just a rambling sort of update of my life, so everyone won’t leave in droves.
I don’t know why I haven’t felt like writing anything apart from the movie reviews. Actually I haven’t even felt like writing those, but I keep pushing myself because I would like to keep a record of the movies I saw this year and my impressions of them. I know that already movies have slipped through the cracks and I can’t even remember what they are. (Plus, we saw two this weekend that I need to write about soon.)
This weekend I saw the best-looking king cake I’d seen in years. I wish I could say I bought it, but we had so much sweet stuff back at the house that it seemed unnecessary. I regret this now.
Let me explain about the king cake. It’s a New Orleans thing mostly. Between Epiphany and Mardi Gras, New Orleans bakeries make king cakes, which are very similar to coffee cake rings except they have purple, green, and yellow (Mardi Gras colors) sugar sprinkled on the top. Somewhere inside the king cake is concealed a little plastic baby.
Valentine’s Day has never been a very big holiday for me. In the past few years, I’ve treated it like a holiday that other people celebrate. Like Hanukkah or Boxing Day or Easter. I don’t mind coworkers passing around candy and things because, hey, free chocolate. My only gripe has been that it is impossible to dine out that night, but then it’s difficult to eat out on Thanksgiving and Easter too.
I know lots of people like to view Valentine’s Day as a day to shower their relatives, platonic friends, and even coworkers with little presents and cards and things, but I haven’t viewed the day in that way since I was a little girl. Valentine’s Day is for couples to get schmoopy with each other and hopefully the rest of us can let them do that and go along with our business without too much disruption.
Everything is a jumble around here. I can’t find one coherent topic to write about, except that I saw some movies for the first time and I ought to write about those, but I can’t even think of anything particularly entertaining to say about them. When I’m at a loss for movie rants, you know it’s been a weird week.
Mostly I’ve been sick with some nasty viral thingy that crept into my throat and attached my tonsils and the inside of my mouth in a really disgusting way. Not only did I feel miserably ill, but I felt entirely grossed out every time I looked in my mouth. I still have a sore throat and a tender mouth but at least it’s not icky anymore, just red. I am very thankful.
If you watch lots of sitcoms and cliched romantic comedy films, if you read the type of book that is currently being typed as “chick lit”, then you know that all unmarried women, excuse me, all of us girls harbor special secret wedding fantasies in our sweet feminine hearts. Even the tough, butch chicks have these Ultimate Wedding Ideals, no matter how much they might publicly deny it. Whether we actively want to be married doesn’t matter, we all have dreams of bridal beauty.
Yes, I am including myself. I didn’t think I had any sort of thoughts about “what if I ever got married” in my head beyond the immediate and visceral “Elope. Definitely elope.”
I’m sure everyone is sick of hearing complaints about The Holiday Season, especially my complaints. I know I don’t want to hear another negative word out of myself … well, unless I am telling a good story, like the adventures of my Christmastime trip to the suburbs of New Orleans.
So I am going to list some of the positive, happy things about December and its accompanying holidays.
Today I am facing the challenge of seeing how much I can write before my mom shows up from her Christmas card shopping to ask me what I am doing. I’m at PJ’s in Clearview Shopping Center, and although the table is uneven and I should have put more sugar in my coffee, I am as happy as I can be at this moment.