It’s that time of year, with holiday events jam-packed into three short weekends, since Thanksgiving was the latest if could possibly be, the fourth Thursday, November 28th.
I was able to attend my singles’ party for the first time in several years. My chorus usually performs on the first Friday night in December, but not this year. I attended and danced the night away with various available and not-so-available guys.
I wore a vintage dress that I’d purchased back in my shop days (a woman had come in with her deceased aunt’s wardrobe and offered it all to me for $200.00). I sold a dozen of those aunt dresses from the 40’s in my shop but couldn’t let the burgundy one with the rhinestones go, even though it wouldn’t zip. It hung in my closet for at least ten years, maybe more.
When I looked at all of my short dresses this week, I decided I wanted to go vintage. I pulled out a half dozen choices collected over the decades, but the one that fit me the best was the burgundy 40’s dress. It zipped!
The chorus director had warned us not to party on Friday night. Oops! I ‘d already bought my expensive dinner dance ticket. But then she said not to drink, and I’d given that up anyway.
Still, Saturday morning my legs were crampy, and I thought about soaking in a hot bath. But our call time was so early that I skipped the bath and packed up my lunch to eat between the long rehearsal with the symphony and the actual performance later that same day.
My head hurt pretty much all day, and it showed in the candid photos people took of me with my own camera. My face looked pinched, unhappy, pained. It was all of those things, but well worth it. That holiday party, after missing it all those years, was fantabulous.
We, the chorus, performed with the symphony, and six of my friends showed up to hear us. I went to the women’s changing room afterward and ate my late lunch (since I didn’t dare eat it and then try to sing).
My friends texted me to meet them for dinner at Jacks in Pleasant Hill, but I’d already committed to a small girlfriend party gathering at 5:00. It was a nice evening, although I couldn’t eat the appetizers or drink the wine. Still, we got to discuss some stuff and to catch up on relationships, mothers, sisters, RBG, and our current administration.
I got home Saturday night ten and half hours after I’d left the house, and my neurotic rescue dog climbed onto my lap and pressed her nervous body against me, twenty pounds of warmth.
“Where have you been all day?” she said with her eyes.
I was snoring logs in ten minutes. I woke up with a back ache and went to bed.
Sunday was a repeat performance with the symphony. I got smart and soaked in the tub plus took some pain meds before heading out. The dogs even got a rainy walk or ball throwing session. The Sunday photos of me were more flattering, probably because my head wasn’t pounding all day. My voice was thinner, though, while singing, so that was interesting.
Two parties and two performances in 48 hours, wonderful photos and memories. It rained all weekend, but we needed it.
Next weekend is almost as busy with two more chorus performances but no party lined up for Friday the 13th.
I have a donation for the homeless to deliver this week and a few other scheduled things to get done. But mostly I will lay low (lie low?) and stay healthy for two more singing gigs.
‘Tis the season!