I went out. Out to a party. First party in so long I can’t even remember when I was last at one. My friend Jan or also known as Jam, whom you may remember from some of my earlier blogs, is moving out of my province. She has a legitimate reason; her husband has been stationed in Ontario, where they will start a new life. She promised she would have good healthcare and she already has friends out there. So I won’t worry. Now, about that party…
As usual it’s a chore getting there. Typical me, I was anxious about going. What to wear, what to bring, what the hell. Okay I did have a clean shirt in the closet, and both my pair of jeans were not so clean but not too terrible. I had a bra; well a half bra because the wire poked out of it the other day and stabbed me in the armpit so I yanked it the rest of the way out. Half a bra, see? And I had hidden some socks from my kid so I had some. I was set. I made stuffed mushrooms from a new recipe as I lost my usual one 2 homes ago. They were ready to go in the oven and in a lovely glass baking dish my fella gave me (some girls get flowers…).
Weird driving over there. It’s a few houses down from my old house where my ex still lives. I parked in the street in front of Jan’s house. Went to the door. Her boy-kid answered the door. I tried opening the storm door but it was locked. I stood there clutching my mushrooms trying to make out what he was saying. It dawned on me that the party was at Shelly’s house. She lives on the other side of the middle house. Feeling foolish I waved at the kid and started toward Shelly’s.
This is almost word for word the beginning of a past adventure with Shelly and Jan. Just substitute “husband” for boy-kid. You’d think I’d learn by now.
This didn’t look right. Jeez I was going the wrong way. How could I do that? I hadn’t been drinking but felt so turned around. That’s what I did, I turned around. Started up the walk towards Shelly’s front door when, all of a sudden, I fell in a snow drift. Clutching my mushrooms and my big purse, I couldn’t get up. Mushrooms all topsy turvy, me all topsy turvy. Right down on my knees. I had no choice but to drop the mushrooms. I finally got up, picked up everything and trudged the rest of the way through the snow to the door.
I walked in to cheers and then screams of laughter. This was almost as bad as getting naked with someone the first time. A build up of excitement until they get a good look at you. I looked down at myself and realized I was covered in snow. Thank god I wasn’t naked. I hadn’t met most of these people and this was their first impression of me. Oh man, all I could do was laugh and make up ridiculous stories. Jan came to greet me and, after hugging her with all my snow, I handed her the present I made her. I had printed one of my blogs (Earl Hi Jean) with a lovely title page “One of my adventures with Jan Jacobson”. She was thrilled. After much mixing of drinks and pouring of wine and collection of food, we gathered around and I read it out loud. Oh we laughed so hard, all of us, even the young chickies that were there. It was important that they listened as there were a lot of code words, code names and simple explanations of life in that blog. I like to think my writing has helped make these young women more able to cope with life’s little piles of poop. So to speak.
Next on the agenda was to do what Jan wanted. It was a party for her after all. What did she want to do? Dance and sing to her new Wii game. I don’t know what it’s called but it was all Michael Jackson singing and dancing and you had to follow him. I didn’t do it. I waved my arms in the air with Shelly and reminded people I was almost 50. That was before Zombie girl was zoned. She and Jan were up there moving and grabbing their (own) groins until Jan was glistening so much it almost dripped into the taco dip. That actually sounds pretty dirty. She didn’t glisten because she was grabbing her groin.
I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?
After a bit, Zombie Girl and Spunk (I forget their names but they are really young and couldn’t keep up to us old folks) wanted to keep playing but were too tired and feeling the effects of whatever alcoholic drink they were drinking for their training into full-fledged adulthood and found an inventive way to score points.
That’s when the cat came out.
I knew this cat when she was a kitten and hadn’t seen her in a couple of years. She looks a lot like me. We both grew too much. At least my head is in proportion to my body. I hope it is anyway. That reminds me; the food was wonderful. Crab puffs, mm. Taco dip minus the sweat, yum. Little Quiche so good I had more than 3. My stuffed mushrooms were okay but I need to find the other recipe. Hot, homemade spinach dip with 2 kinds of bread, wow. I am now having a food blackout. I am so full I’m, well, so full.
I had a glass of wine then another 1/2 glass the whole evening. But I was on. I have not been that on in years. One liners, funny comments, oh it was fun. I overheard Shelly tell someone “you should see her when she drinks!” Ever play Canadian Trivia? Sue with a silent “P” led us in the game with random cards filled with fascinating facts and useless bunk. I never played it before and soon found that if I yelled out “Beaver” enough times, I would get it right. My vocabulary grew as the evening went on. Margaret Thatcher, who is not Canadian, Spunk and wet spot ruled the answer queue. Then I just started knowing things I didn’t know I knew, you know? I hate to say it but everyone was surprised. I did hear Jan explain to someone “Marie is smart, I love her” We all threw in answers that didn’t make sense which was only fair since the questions didn’t make sense half the time. One of the lovely women there was trying so hard to answer something right. She announced she was a history expert. Uh huh. Jan read history questions but no dice for our Historian. Then Jan just started reading history questions only for her, forbidding all of us to answer anything except Margaret Thatcher, beaver and wet spot. I think wet spot was mine. Not my wet spot but I was getting a kick out of saying it. A lot. And one of those answers is not Canadian. Oh and beaver evolved into Justin Beaver which isn’t very funny unless you say it slooowwly. Just in beaver. And wet spot. See? That’s pretty funny. I think that’s my new nickname. Or it’s Jan’s. It’s all so confusing, I think might have been still wandering the street of Trent. Oh man there I go, on and on again. The Historian ended up getting 1 question right out of 54.2 questions. She had a good excuse. She drank a lot of wine. At least she said it was wine. I don’t think it was old and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Canadian.
The game led to a monarchy question. Jan stated that she did not see what the hoopla was all about with the royal wedding coming up. I listened to the arguments and waited for an opening. I said it was the same as someone owning all of Michael Jackson’s albums. Why would they? I felt a warning hand on my shoulder and turned to look at the Historian. I saw the fear on her face, I saw the warning in her eyes. Hey, I knew Jan had all his albums. I was only trying to make a point. We all have obsessions and they don’t make sense most of the time. I survived the conversation as I think Jan was on her 12th cotton candy vodka and cream soda? Ew? No, there’s no question; EW.
The Historian is the same woman who jumped up not long after I announced I would have to leave and screamed “Jello Shots! You guys don’t do anything I want to do!” and stomped to the kitchen to get, I assumed, jello shots. So, simply to placate her, I sat down again. I think the only time I had a jello shot was some from the LC. Yummy if I remember right. I was handed a shot glass with chunks of red jello jiggling and threatening to overflow. Immediately, Shelly was yelling that I had more than she did. Tough luck there, Cookie. Go sit on the wet spot.
I never had a drink that was chewy before. And it tasted like strawberry cough syrup. It had coconut rum in it so that doesn’t make much sense. Shelly and I proceeded to show each other the goop in our mouths, through our teeth. I think we were bonding. Jan, of all people, was disgusted. I complimented Shelly on her deft tongue action as she got every last chunk of jello out of that shot glass. Shot plastic really. That woman sure would make a man happy. Hell she could make anyone happy. We were laughing so hard I snorted not once, not twice but THREE TIMES. I was trying so hard not to choke on the glop in my mouth. Hard to chew jello and coconut rum and howl at the same time. And there were orange ones after these! I could do without those, thank you.
I had brought my car and did not plan on drinking although Jan was hoping I would stay over. I think most people were. Staying over, I mean. But my girl was at home and with my now mushroom-goo stained shirt and my full belly with a jelly shot slopping around in there, I got ready to leave. Jam came over to hug me. She promised to write in her blog regularly.
I liked that she would do that but what was on my mind was simply, “What if I fall in the snow again?” I asked this out loud. Everyone found a place at the window. I don’t think it was to see if I made it okay. Yeah right, thanks so much.
Go sit on the wet spot just in my beaver…Margaret Thatcher.