Party the FirstEhh...too long ago now. RDC and I walked, as we did on Halloween also. Then we went to Sabrina and her husband's Halloween Birthday and Housewarming party. Their house, besides being theirs and a house, with a dog and a garden, is the Pottery Barn house. Unbelievable. Elegant. Comfortable. Friendly. Very much Sabrina. (I don't know T.).
Great people, some of whom confirmed my theory that the best looking ones really are gay. Others blew that theory out of the water, though; mustn't assume. Except for playing with CGK's hair, which I cannot resist, I didn't spend a lot of time with DU people; I really need to expand my Denver circle. So I spent most of the night talking with a man from Casper, Wyoming. What?
We learned Barbie's party was a meta-bash, as we had anticipated, so I'm glad we didn't go, except that we missed Sabrina, Barbie, and someone else as Satanic Charlie's Angels. KRS was Sabrina, hence the name. We stayed home and watched "Sling Blade." I'm glad we went to Sabrina. & T.'s the next day though: Sabrina's fridge sports Magnetic Clichés, which I must have. Instead of "God works in mysterious ways" and "One man's meat is another man's poison," why not "One man's meat works in mysterious ways."
Wonderful food. Sundried tomatoes exist solely for my pleasure. Chocolate cake. Which was great, of course, as Cockney Rhyming Slang would have it. There's a Bill Cosby skit about his making breakfast for the kids and their begging for chocolate cake for breakfast. He considers: eggs, flour, milk, hey it's okay! So the kids sing: "Dad is great, he gives us chocolate cake." "Chocolate cake" is a reasonable slant rhyme for great, and following the rules of CRS, becomes "chocolate," which is already a synonym for "great". OMFB, once you understand that progression, my world will open to you.
The invitation read "In costume or come as you are," so I was the Cat in the Hat, minus big red buttons down my front. One little boy was entranced. I envy that blurred line between reality and imagination that mostly children possess and that adults have mostly lost. Grown-ups. Whatever. He stared at me--there's another good candidate to be a strong verb; isn't store a good past tense of stare?--and someone assured that yes, that was the Cat in the Hat. I showed him my tail and asked him if he had a rake with him as I needed something to balance my cake on, but I lost him there.
My really good idea came when I opened the costume box. There resides the Cat in the Hat hat, tail, and bow; and RDC's graduation gowns; and my Ren Faire frock; and also my wedding dress. (The costume box is, like almost all of our storage boxes, a ten-ream paper box. I didn't have an elaborate gown.) In a flash of inspiration, I wanted to be Miss Havisham. I had the wedding dress, which is the most difficult bit of costume to acquire. And my shoes, which I have not been subsequently able to wear; I think my feet grew the instant I was legally wed. I could wear down one ivory thigh-high in moments. We didn't have talcum powder; would baking soda or powder have worked to gray my hair? And I had no idea how to make myself look haggard. And RDC pointed out that I didn't want to ruin my dress. Which was true. So I was the Cat in the Hat and much more comfortable in leggings, turtleneck, and high tops than in a tightly buttoned bodice. Plus if RDC had had to do up the 28 buttons, he would have rebelled. I called my bridal buddies slaves for a reason.
Party the SecondThe invitation also read "until 8:00," and I don't know if they booted everyone out then but we left, picked up HAO, and came home to watch "The English Patient." I'd asked Sabrina if I could take a piece of cake for HAO and she said yes, so I was able to tell HAO "J'ai une pièce de gateau pour mon amie." Of course, because I was saying it, I could grunt the article. Writing it, I have no idea which gender "pièce" is. Deal. Anyway, that was a good thing, because at my house she sometimes flits through the kitchen asking for les petits gateaux, les chocolats, les anything, and is often disappointed.
So we watched "The English Patient." It was all right, nothing to the book of course, and certainly not deserving of eleven Oscars and fifteen nominations or whatever.
HAO slept over because it was nearly midnight when the flick was over. I told her I'd drive her back but I really didn't want to. The only thing was a toothbrush. Oops. I scurried out Sunday morning for a toothbrush and the paper--why did I get the Denver Post instead of The New York Times?--and coming back met HAO, who'd emerged for a Rocky Mountain News from the box. It has better comics, Doonesbury and Peanuts. The News has Dilbert and Cathy. Cathy, I ask you. That strip doesn't mock the stupid roles women shove themselves into, it shoehorns them in deeper. Yikes. I was able to give her a new toothbrush, too, and had bought a pint of real maple syrup.
When I have pancakes with maple syrup, I wonder why I ever waste my time with the fake dribble. So RDC made pancakes, kind old thing, and then HAO and I walked off the pancakes, doing our usual route for the first time in four weeks. I think Saturday became Sunday after that walk, not before, even if pancakes and "CBS Sunday Morning" and long walks are so very Sundayish. Some days are like that.
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