I am deliberating. Do I want a tasteful black bow in my hair like Rose Marie? Perhaps a Rhoda Morgenstern head scarf? Some June Cleaver Pearls would be a nice touch. With a cashmere sweater that just happens to have been a gift, with a red dot on it. I could pair that sweater with a prairie skirt, the likes of which have not been seen since Caroline Ingalls went off the air. To step into a pair of Crocs would be too simple. I'm considering a sturdy pair of black basketball hightops like those worn by Mary Wickes in The Trouble With Angels.
Or maybe I'll just do a full-on Mimi, like Kathy Kinney on the Drew Carey Show.
I'm sure you'll all recognize me the minute I walk in. We'll be the family shoving each other to avoid walking through the door first. The Pony is the young man who won't look you in the eye or talk to you. He will duck his head and mumble before worming his way behind me. Hick will speak in grunts because he won't know what to say. "Huh." That will apply to every topic that is not goats, chickens, or machines. And I, the life of the party, will try to appear socially acceptable.
It's so hard.
The myriad of choices, all splayed in front of you in a stunning array...I suspect you MIGHT show up by yourself (the big build-up about bringing your family merely a way to cloak your dagger of diabolical wit), slip in quietly, observe us in our captive state and then you will leave, with us none the wiser.
ReplyDeleteI am not going to count my chickens before they've hatched...Even a BigCityLand girl knows that.
What time will you be there? I am betting you'll come as you are with a giant diet Coke in hand. We're all excited to be meeting the famed Val.
ReplyDeleteHard---yes, but if it was easy everyone would do it. This weeds people out and makes more room at the top.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteYou overestimate my craftiness. I'm a package deal. The Pony needs a bookstore, and I need a driver. Should I try some cloak-and-dagger subterfuge to sneak a peek without being noticed, I would likely trip on my cloak and poke my eye out with my dagger while falling onto the book-signing table and dispersing authors like Johnny's appleseeds. Hopefully, nothing real and spectacular would be used as a handhold to break my fall.
Your chickens should be safe. But Even Steven is already monkeywrenching in an effort to upset Johnny's applecart.
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Linda,
I'm hoping to make a grand entrance between 4:00 and 5:00. It depends on how much time Hick's sweaving adds to the drive. I shall have to curtail my 44 oz. Diet Coke consumption, or begin swilling early when I drop The Pony off for his academic team tournament at 8:30. I have no desire to be in one of those colorful balloon reunion or copper pipe people commercials for uncontrollable bladder issues.
I am already trying to pick out what canned good I want to bring.
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Stephen,
Like Dolly Parton says, "It costs a lot of money to look this cheap!" I'm all for weeding people to give me more room.
I feel your pain... what to wear, what to say, ack. Bringing family helps :-)
ReplyDeleteLynn,
ReplyDeleteI am not renowned for my meet-and-greet prowess. More for my faux pas penchant.