I am sitting here at the computer, rollers in my hair, having a mild panic attack. You see I am going to a dear friend’s 40th birthday party tonight (Kathryn’s traditional 40th birthday gift of a UB40 cd already wrapped and ready to go) and I am suddenly feeling completely inadequate. My friend and her husband are lovely, lovely people, it’s just that they are in a completely different (read much, much higher) economic bracket than me, as are most of their other friends (my sister not included). I help pay someone else’s mortgage by living in their basement, while my frineds don’t even have a mortgage and live in the ritziest part of town, right on the water.
The printed invites say dress: something fabulous. I don’t own anything fabulous. Okay, so I have fabulous shoes, but that’s where it ends. No fabulous dress, no fabulous jewels, no fabulous hairstylist, and last of all, no fabulous man on my arm. At least my sister has the wonderful Marcus to walk in with. And my friend’s parents will be there from Knowlton, which is great and I am looking forward to seeing them, but they will report directly back to my parents upon their return to Knowlton.
Oh well, not much I can do about it right now. My best plan of attack at the moment is to go out to the backyard and try to get the multiple tan lines at least a little blended and enjoy an icy cold beverage while Maggie terrorizes Fluffy the hampster in its little ball.