Because you can't go wrong with kitsch and color and claws.
Those '80s ladies were on to something.
Because you can't go wrong with kitsch and color and claws.
Those '80s ladies were on to something.
This is a bit of a shocker, so you may want to sit down. Are you sitting down? With an ice cold or piping hot beverage? And maybe a cookie or cheese and crackers? Okay, good. Here it goes. Two weeks ago, I went to a restaurant.
Everything okay? You didn't choke on that cookie, did you? Good. Just for making it through, have another.
So, my mom was turning seventy. And she wanted a small group (eight adults and three children) to celebrate at one of her favorite Italian eateries. My dad made sure to request the "dining room," which is a small room in the front housing a single table for twelve. The only thing that might stand in Mom's way was that I might not be okay with it. Which was humbling. Was I really such a scaredy-cat prima donna? Maybe. Because I didn't answer immediately. But minutes later, I came to my senses and said of course, the husband and I would be there. So on the appointed day, I put on my tiger-striped best and turquoise eyeshadow, and the husband and I drove toward Philly. That's where I am in the first pic, posed outside the restaurant before donning my K90 mask to enter the lobby. I made the husband wear a mask too, and he obliged, albeit begrudgingly. When we opened the door, though, no one else was wearing one. I felt a little silly. But not silly enough to take it off before we arrived at our cloistered table.
When I finally bared my mug, I felt . . . normal. Safe. Not at all panicked like I was in those pre-vaccine dreams where I found myself in a crowded store without facial protection. Sure, I doused myself with antibacterial gel every other time I picked up my fork. But I drank my Pepsi and ate my shrimp and watched my niece and nephew devour their bread like it was an ordinary Sunday. And it was nice. Not so nice that I wondered what I'd been missing for the past two years (all in all, I still prefer staying home), but nice to know that I could handle eating out should a special occasion arise. And toasting Mom's seventieth over seafood sans takeout containers was pretty special.
So, in support of that first foray into "the jungle," I came up with two more animal print ensembles. I broke out my new bejeweled, leopard Betsey heels too, which I'd recently scored on clearance. They were cute alright -- but they were also killers. I told the husband that the left one was getting me right where my bunion lived. His response? "All aboard the bunion bus!". I took the shoes off after he took the pic, but he sang that ditty for the rest of the day. With such riveting in-house entertainment, is it any wonder I never want to go out? That's where small talk and traffic and COVID lurk, and most of the time it isn't worth it. As they say, it's a jungle out there.
But as I learned at my mom's birthday dinner, not always. Sometimes it's a (walk in the) park.