Sunday, June 24, 2012

Devil in a Blue Dress

With my laptop to my right I sat on the couch, my feet on the coffee table and sipped my champagne. I was going for mimosa’s, but figured I was fat and sassy enough so I’d just stick to the alcohol. Don’t need those extra sugar calories.  As it was, my batwing complex was increasing each time I raised my coffee cup and checked my triceps before drinking.
It was Saturday morning and I had the condo to myself. Jameson was on campus studying for his final Block and Grey was over at Tommy’s house. I’d had the worst morning on the island to date and was anxiously waiting for Taffi to call me.  While reminiscing about the past year, I longed for the day that traffic near the Home Depot in Redmond was my biggest annoyance. At this point I’d give my right leg to put the car in park by the Brown Bear Carwash while reading my Kindle and waiting for rush hour to end.
I’d just polished off my third mug of champagne when my Skype chirped. I dropped my feet from the table, put my computer on my lap and answered the call.
“Thank gawd!  I’ve been drinking coffee cups of champagne and spinning out of control while you were working out. I’m in a panic.”
“In a panic and what, you’ve moved to a trailer park? Why are you drinking champagne out of a mug?  Its 11AM there – what is going on that’s got you in a twitter?”
I sighed and began telling Taffi my story. I’d worked out in the AUC Gym that morning and on the way back to the condo I stopped in the coffee shop just off campus to get a soy latte. After placing my order, a girl walked in with her mother and I could hear them talking about how the girl was starting at AUC the upcoming semester.
“So, I try to be nice and say hello and tell them that my husband is a student – non-traditional of course - and explain that I’d be happy to answer any questions they may have about island life.  The mother looks me up and down and, I guess, decides to speak even though I look like a dish towel and probably smell like a swap meet.”
“True. Anyway, they get drinks, we sit down on the couch and chairs and I ask where they’re from. Oh, by the way, the mom was wearing that cute navy blue dress from Ann Taylor.  The one we were chatting about the other day.”
“Sleeveless with the square neckline?”
“Yep. And, the cutest mother trucking Louboutin’s. Ever.”
“Damn. Did you knock her out and make a break for it with the Lou’s?”
“No, unfortunately this story doesn’t end well. So, we talk for a few minutes and I answer some questions about the drug store in Simpson Bay, the Gourmet Marche down the hill and politely explain that there is no shopping on the island when I get hit with this question.  ‘What is it that you do, Kelly?’  Excited that I get to talk about ME and not some science crap that Jameson’s classmates always ramble about, I say I’m a software architect.”
“I’m waiting for the apocalypse that drove you to e-mail me four times during Rami’s spin class.”
“Taff, she quizzed me some more and then asked when I was quitting my job and why I would want to work if my husband was going to be a physician. What the frak! I have a career, too! I’m not going to drop everything to stay home and attend functions for Jameson’s hospital.”
“Did you tell her that you’re entirely too neurotic and Type A to NOT work?  I mean, realistically you can work, clean your house, read about ‘Fifty’ and still have free time. You’re like a well-oiled machine.”
“FYI, read the ‘Fifty’ series. Again. Third time. Jameson thinks I need an intervention. What do you think?”
“I am not the person to ask. Max and I’ve gone through three silver neck ties in as many weeks.”
“Shut. Up.”
“I know. Anyway - are you more worried about an intervention for ‘Shades’ or about the beezy with the Lou’s?”
I just sighed.
“OK,” Taffi began, “Here’s the deal. A, Jameson won’t be working at ‘General Hospital’ so I think worrying about black tie functions is a waste. And B, nobody ever said you shouldn’t work. Well, not until this morning. We ALL know that you’re going to keep working. It’s non-negotiable. I think you’re freaking out over nothing. Seriously. My phone kept buzzing. It was embarrassing.”
After Taff talked me off a ledge, we wrapped up our call with discussion about the Red Room of Pain. Seriously. An intervention may be required.
Mental Checklist: politely explain to husband that the Red Room of Pain is NOT a surgery suite and look on Amazon for a silver neck tie. Oh, and buy more champagne. You can knock that stuff back when drinking out of a pint sized mug.