Pajamas.

Boo! I am suddenly depressed. Here I thought I was getting a leg up on things and today, a CHRISTMAS present that I had ordered for my brother arrived and…I don’t like it. And I think I have to send it back. Rats. And YOU may think it’s early to be Christmas shopping but my mom is done. And all of her presents are wrapped. And she has some set aside for next year. So that’s the suck. I thought I was cool and yet again, I was so, so wrong. Boo.

But over the weekend I went to a “re-commitment” ceremony. Some friends celebrated their 25th anniversary by doing it all over again. Crazy, says I. It was a big enough pain for me the first time, I can’t imagine doing it a second time, but I also can’t imagine being alive after 25 years of marriage…well, let’s just say one of us won’t be alive and ya’ll can start taking bets on who is going to make it.

It was a lovely service though, right on a cliff over the water. There was singing and dancing and food and everything you expect at an event like this. And there was Glen Campbell, which you kind of don’t expect at an event like this. But there he was. I didn’t believe it at first. I was sitting outside and I refused to get up and look until I heard “Rhinestone Cowboy”. And when I heard it, I looked and sure ‘nuff…Glen Campbell. Groovy.

The one problem I have with events like this though is the dressing up. I am not a dressing up kind of girl. I am a barely able to get out of my pajamas kind of girl. I am aa “is an old holey sweatsuit appropriate for a job interview?” kind of girl. And when the invitation says “cocktail attire” well…in my house dressing for cocktails involves that ratty old bathrobe and slippers, just like every other event. And “cocktail attire” is pretty vague I think. I mean, if I were to go out for cocktails with say…SnarkyDork, I might wear nice jeans and a pretty sweater. Or if I were going to cocktails with Glen Campbell…well, I am sure it would involve rhinestones. But I don’t like dresses and I don’t like all the stuff that goes with dresses.

I have worn dresses. I wore dresses for work and I wore dresses for play but I just never think of them as comfortable and I DON’T WANNA! When I did wanna, I did it well, I wore “Designing Women” suits, I wore high heels, I wore hose (because in New Jersey, you wear hose. In the south, you wear hose. In California, you are all sluts who don’t wear hose!) and I was well dressed. And the dresses got caught in cross breezes and blew up (I once even had a wrap around skirt blow completely off!) and the hose got runners in them and the high heels did terrible things to my feet and I DON’T WANNA!

So, I wore some pretty wide leg trousers and heels and a pretty silky blouse with kimono sleeves. I kept stepping on my trousers and the pretty silky blouse kept sliding off my shoulders and exposing my bra and the heels ended up giving me foot cramps that kept me up all night.

Next time I am totally wearing my pajamas.