Buffalo Gal

I went on a Space Bag spree one day creating solid, plastic rocks of large piles of clothing I didn't expect to wear again until after the house was sold. It makes the closets look bigger and helps me feel like I'm really doing something towards actually moving.
The jumbo bag of formal dresses, so necessary in my previous work and completely inconsequential now, was one of the first to go under the bed.
And now it will be the first to be reopened.
A gal I've never met was apparently stood up for her Senior Prom years ago. For her birthday this year, her husband has hired a band, rented a gym and is throwing a surprise prom. They've only lived in the area for six months so word is travelling via his co-workers and email for couples to complete the picture. Ticket prices will help with costs. Anything that's left over goes to charity.
An invitation to the prom seemed the perfect antidote to all the hard and heavy adult decisions we're dealing with around here these days. My husband is 59, but he keeps saying "who's going to hire a 60-year-old man?" I'm 45, but realized I may well be 65 when applying for reporter jobs on newspapers.
Saturday night we'll be 16 going on 17, with the permission to do any and all of the things that were forbidden the first time around.
I still can't dance any better now than I could then... but I don't have to feign a sprained ankle to avoid the humilitation of my horrible secret getting out. I'll dance and it will be horrible. Period. I'll have fun.
In that it is being held in a school gym I don't imagine alcohol will be allowed (wink, wink) but if I have to go out to the car for Kleenex a few times...
The couple that invited us is seven months pregnant. In high school, those couples had to stay home. (One told me she felt vindicated for that snub when she and her husband collected the "most grandchildren award" at the 20 year class reunion -- I guess it's a question of priorties).
So my dress will be much larger, it will also be much better made. The same can be said of my date. We won't arrive in his Dad's station wagon, but his Audi TT Roadster. What's left our our hair will be blowing in the wind.
Some things get better with age.
But sometimes it's just fun to pretend there is no such thing.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (0) Share on Facebook		2004-10-20 6:49 AM It's never too late to prom I went on a Space Bag spree one day creating solid, plastic rocks of large piles of clothing I didn't expect to wear again until after the house was sold. It makes the closets look bigger and helps me feel like I'm really doing something towards actually moving. The jumbo bag of formal dresses, so necessary in my previous work and completely inconsequential now, was one of the first to go under the bed. And now it will be the first to be reopened. A gal I've never met was apparently stood up for her Senior Prom years ago. For her birthday this year, her husband has hired a band, rented a gym and is throwing a surprise prom. They've only lived in the area for six months so word is travelling via his co-workers and email for couples to complete the picture. Ticket prices will help with costs. Anything that's left over goes to charity. An invitation to the prom seemed the perfect antidote to all the hard and heavy adult decisions we're dealing with around here these days. My husband is 59, but he keeps saying "who's going to hire a 60-year-old man?" I'm 45, but realized I may well be 65 when applying for reporter jobs on newspapers. Saturday night we'll be 16 going on 17, with the permission to do any and all of the things that were forbidden the first time around. I still can't dance any better now than I could then... but I don't have to feign a sprained ankle to avoid the humilitation of my horrible secret getting out. I'll dance and it will be horrible. Period. I'll have fun. In that it is being held in a school gym I don't imagine alcohol will be allowed (wink, wink) but if I have to go out to the car for Kleenex a few times... The couple that invited us is seven months pregnant. In high school, those couples had to stay home. (One told me she felt vindicated for that snub when she and her husband collected the "most grandchildren award" at the 20 year class reunion -- I guess it's a question of priorties). So my dress will be much larger, it will also be much better made. The same can be said of my date. We won't arrive in his Dad's station wagon, but his Audi TT Roadster. What's left our our hair will be blowing in the wind. Some things get better with age. But sometimes it's just fun to pretend there is no such thing. Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top