Wow, it's Friday. When did I become Sally NeverPost? And what brought on this inability to differentiate days? It's concerning. A few posts ago I was worried about scurvy, now I'm downright determined to stave off dementia. I hear word games help.
The She & Him concert the other night was great, as we knew it would be. What a mixed bag the crowd was, though. The guy sitting next to us was lounging with his [shabby-khaki-shorts-covered] legs stretched out on the bench and kept ordering miniature shots of bourbon. Actually, maybe he was just ordering bourbon- perhaps they only came in children's Tylenol-sized shot glasses. (And is today Hyphen Day around here? Just wondering.) And his date kept maneuvering away from his death grip around her waist. He was, after all, stretching out his legs, making it really awkward to snuggle on a bench if your date is perpendicularly placed. And truly, the only reason I REALLY noticed them (aside from the copious bourbon cups) was that the gal was wearing a floral scrunchie in her hair. Remember the episode of Sex & the City where Carrie is telling Berger how his novel lacks truth because his heroine wears a scrunchie, and no self-respecting woman wears a scrunchie except for washing her face at night? Well, this woman had a long black dress and decent heels but also sported a white and blueish floral scrunchie that tied her hair into a messy bun. I didn't get it, but perhaps not everything has to make crystal clear sense to me personally.
ANYWAY, other highlights included the frat boy who kept punching his fist in the air and raising his bottle of Bud Light at guitar solos, especially juxtaposed with the be-tatted girl standing next to him and ducking out of the way of his wayward high fives. And the opening gal, Becky Stark, was adorable and funny. (She's the backup singer for Zooey and M. Ward!) Her set included bringing members of the band out for certain songs, with one number even being backed by Miss Deschanel herself and punctuated with riffs from M. Ward! (How did that conversation go? "Yeah, I'm opening for you, but seriously....can you play an A chord?") And it goes with saying that She & Him were fantastic and had us dancing. Even the bourbon dude. And all the girls with tattoos! P.J. tried to get Zooey's attention between songs, so much so that it led me to inquire about his apparent crush. Turns out, there's no attraction, just a deep need to let her know how cool he thinks she is. And that's totally fine and within the parameters of our vows.
Last night I trekked out to Villa Park again to go to my dentist. Originally, it started out with my being dragged to Nat's dentist as my fear was too all-consuming. Almost six years later it's just a simple case of loyalty. I left work at 4pm to take the Milwaukee bus down to Ogilvie Center to buy a round trip ticket (and some Taco Bell!) Got on the wrong [express] train, but as it was remedied before anyone actually left the station it doesn't warrant too much discussion. My awesome pal Eddie shuttled me from the Metra station to the dentist and back (he lives in Oakhurst- woo!) in time to make the 8:08pm back to the city. Caught the Milwaukee bus back up to Western, took the Western bus to Cornelia and then did some walkin', bringing me back to the homestead at 9:45pm. Yup, round trip was almost six hours.
What was truly interesting, however, was the convo that my dentist and I had while I was prone in the chair. I have a couple of cavities that need "further discussion and inspection." He assured me that while I take stellar care of my teeth I'm not as young as I once was. Huh? Isn't that kinda the point? Of life? But he said it in this slightly sheepish manner, as if he was afraid to bring up the fact that I'm no longer 22. (Only slightly.)
I find it so funny that people mention aging (and specifically the nearing of 3-0) in the same hushed tones as a conversation about incontinence. Like I shouldn't be proud to have survived this long! What, with learning to look the other way when crossing the street in London, finding out about certain pivotal allergies early on (latex, chili powder, etc.), and being sidelined from various sporting events along the way I am DARN PROUD to not be dead yet. I think the scariest thing for some people is not the aging itself, but the defining of a new era (of which the number 30 is definitely a cut off point.) It's the age of the ingenue, the waif, the wunderkind, in short- the little girl. I'm finding I'm more and more okay with this; I've so rarely been the ingenue (I'm more of a quirky best friend type, frankly) and even on my best days I could never be called waifish. I've embraced the Little Girl thing long enough as many, many people around me could attest. But you know what? Big Girls can do some pretty neat things too; throw a mean dinner party while saying things like, "Nothing beats a good Chilean red," for example. Or get renter's insurance for some awfully sweet registry gifts. Or my personal favorite- telling people that I'm a playwright and having them agree. (So much so that they workshop and produce my shows. That's really fun.) And frankly, even though (it's lookin' like) I'll never be a child prodigy, I'll settle for plain ol' success. I read something way back about how the ubiquitous Barbie needed to grow up and become a Barbara. I'm ready to become a Barbara of the world.
Even if it means I have to pay for three new fillings.
2 comments:
How parallel things are. I went to see The Dark Knight on Thursday to get my mind off the current issue, which is My Job And What Is Wrong With It. (that's another convo).
And sitting in front of me after the first fifteen minutes of the movie -- since they came in late, natch -- were the Stupidest Boy and Girl in the World. They seriously never shut up, and since it was an afternoon showing and there were seven people in the theatre, I could definitely hear every word they said. I finally did something I've always wanted to do. I slipped around the end seat of their row, plopped myself down next to them, leaned over and made eye contact, and when they were like, "What?!? ?? !" I just smiled nicely and said, "I needed to move closer. I missed that last part."
They didn't shut up though. And I remembered the rule we have in Texas (or at least in my family) about 'remember everyone might have a gun' and resolved to be less confrontational in future. But yeah. Spectators in general. What the effing eff.
Apparently today is Capitalizing Words In The Middle Of A Sentence Day. Whoopie.
Your dentist is a six-hour round trip odyssey. My dentist is at the end of your block. What's wrong here.
FIVE verification letters. This I can do.
There are lots of things I could say but the mim in me will win, 3 cavities?? Get a new dentist...
and read my email. a may zing night.. x
no hyphen, no caps, just dot dot dot.........
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