April 30, 2004 - Cruising with Murphy

This year I even have a floor-length dress, bought for $7 at a consignment store. The Gryphon bought a new suit for considerably more, but the suit will be useful for many other occasions.

Last night was the casual night they have every year on Thursday night. On my way to the event, I got up close and personal with Murphy. You know, "whatever can go wrong will." That dude. We're buds.

I was heavy into reorganizing my apartment, being determined to make it presentable before my sister visits on Saturday. So I had papers all spread out over the floor in different piles, and my dog, Una, was lying in a ball in the corner, perplexed. She gets that way whenever I move things around my apartment. Or run the vacuum.

Like I said, I'm heavy into my reorganizing project when my editor contacts me and offers me some extra work. I thought about the assignment, did a little quick math, and said sure. I thought for certain I could get finished by 4:30 or 5 and then have plenty of time to finish up the reorganizing, choose an outfit and get out the door by 6:15.

As it turns out, I didn't finish the project until 6:15. On the dot.

So I ran around the apartment like a Monchichee on helium, trying to figure out what to wear. On the spur of the moment, I grabbed a flirty turquoise patterned skirt I'd bought a couple years ago for my brother's wedding rehearsal dinner. I threw clothes all over the floor, looking for a particular black shirt I wanted and couldn't find it. Instead, I settled for a vintage 80's black blouse which buttoned on the shoulders. I'd bought that five years ago for my 10th high school reunion.

Considering that I've lost 45 pounds in the last three years, I think you'll agree I was not thinking clearly. I didn't have time to think. I did, however, have time to bang my chin on my open dresser drawer while bending down to pick up some of my tossed clothes.

A day later, it still hurts like the dickens, but it's really not so bad. It's swollen slightly, but is not terribly noticeable. If I tilt my chin up you can see a small red line. Only slightly more noticeable, I imagine, than a plastic surgery scar and with far less disturbing results.

So I toddle out the front door in my new shoes, after tossing the unsorted papers into a large kitchen bag to go through tomorrow. I hopped in the car and at the first stop light, called my dad to let him know I was running late.

Of course, by the time I step out of my car at the hotel, I've realized the skirt is too loose on me and with but the gentlest tug would fall prey to gravity. The shirt, which had once been tight, was now kind of floppy. I shared my concerns with The Gryphon the minute I met him and my dad in the lobby, and The Gryphon asked the concierge for a safety pin. It took them several minutes to dig up a sewing kit.

I went into the bathroom to pin myself together, which was when I realized how much of a difference there was from last year, the last time I'd seen myself in this particular hotel mirror. Gradual weight changes do add up (thankfully)!

I figure that, between my lateness and the safety pin fiasco, we entered the main ballroom about 20 minutes late. There were no seats to be found! Finally, we had to grab an extra chair and squeeze in at a table with the people my dad enjoys sitting with every year.

Later, I discovered that Dad's experience with Murphy was even worse. After going out and buying himself a tuxedo to wear to the annual formal event, he left it at home, hours and hours away.

After that, the evening went smoothly. I had a couple glasses of red wine, too much buffet food, and told The Gryphon that I thought that my comic alter ego was Joan Rivers. Like her, I find it easy to make catty, cynical comments. Especially when Murphy's been having his way with me. I joked that you'd have to get me mad before I went on-stage, though.

The universe got back at me with a karmic joke. I was in line behind a woman who was wearing a fantastical hat. It was a turquoise fedora with blue cow spots. It was so festive I tapped her on the shoulder and said, "I like your hat."

She replied, "It's a prize I got for dancing" and pointed to the dance floor, crowded with kids and presided over by chatty, cheerful dancers, leading dances to a sound system.

The best part of the evening, hands down, was getting The Gryphon out on the dance floor. He walked out willingly for a slow dance and then remained, at my urging, when a fast dance came on. Typically, The Gryphon shirks dancing, but as the evening wore on, he seemed more and more comfortable. He even lip-synched along with me to "Paradise by the Dashboard Light," following my lead and acting along with the music. Yes, a match made in heaven.

Take that, Murphy.

 

More on my dad and sister's visit:

May 3 - Stepping Out

May 4, 2004 - A Night at the Improv

May 7, 2004 - Showered with Gifts

Moral:
Just roll with it, baby.