This last weekend, after having sushi with friends, we decided to go the Saloon in town. I love saying this, because I am hoping it conjures up images of me living in Texas and wearing some sassy boots. I really do live in the suburbs, but we do have a saloon with a mechanical bull.
After running up a bill that was more Sapporo than sushi (and it was a lot of sushi), we headed over to the Saloon. As some of you may know, I am all for an adventure. Before we even left the parking lot of the sushi restaurant, my husband was making me swear I would not ride the mechanical bull. We were placing bets in the parking lot on who would ride and my husband kept reminding me that I am already a frequent visitor to the chiropractor and a bull ride would not help. I do not think it is appropriate to bring up my aging, frail body on my birthday.
Upon arriving, I felt like the bull was calling my name, my friends were trying to talk me into it and my husband was giving me the look of, ‘I will not give you sympathy or pay for the massages’. We decided two other friends would ride, but I would at least get on for a picture. Only I couldn’t even get on by myself. Maybe it was the Sapporo or the high-heeled boots, or the Sapporo, but it took the help of a friend to even get me on – it was clear riding would not go any better. Rather I was a passionate spectator.
The only thing that could steal my attention was the 80′s band setting up. One of the guys had a mullet and the female lead definitely rocked the 80′s – hard! I was instantly enamored! I was the first one on the dance floor – inappropriately early. I drug my tolerant friends and two perfect strangers out with me. Is there anything better than listening to an 80′s band in a Saloon, with fantastic, indulgent friends?
Well yes, let me suggest some improvements:
- They didn’t know any Bon Jovi songs. There should be a law that states that if you have a mullet, you know Bon Jovi songs.
- I am too old to dance with such enthusiasm (think hamming it up – combination swing dancing and jazzercise) in high-heeled boots. My shins, calves and ankles are still recovering. I should have taken the boots off earlier.
- If you can’t remember how many beers you had at dinner, don’t drink seven captain and diets at the saloon, even if you are making up for Lent.
- When everyone wants to leave, do not explain to your husband that the two nice women you met on the dance floor can bring you home later.
- We should have used a camera that didn’t create the devil eyes, but it’s almost fitting because I felt like the devil had strapped me to a mechanical bull and done his worst the next morning…
As I mentioned last night, I am going to do seven posts about my seven deadly sins. Last night I covered vanity. In honor of the tens of thousands of calories I plan to consume today, I am covering the second sin: gluttony. Here are my seven guilty pleasures – narrowing it down to seven will be tough!
- Any cocktail with rum, but not Malibu rum – too sweet!
- Yellow cake with chocolate frosting
- Pizza and beer
And what makes me the most gluttonous? That I would gladly attempt to eat and drink all of the above on the same day!
I feel compelled to dedicate this post to several friends. You know who you are and here’s why:
- Most people think of Napa for its wine, but we know it’s just a beautiful food fest with wine on the side.
- CRACK CAKE! This cake is more addictive than any drug I have ever heard of.
- We won’t drink the whole bottle tonight… (famous last words about wine)
- Hmmmm – the universal sound of gluttony.
- She has hidden candy bars in her couch! Really!
Since the beginning of time, women have had diversions: bridge club, garden club, Bunko, book club, and the myriad of at-home parties - Stella and Dot, Pampered Chef, Cookie Lee, Southern Living – you get the idea. Let’s be honest: these are all excuses to get a few hours away from the kids, husbands, boyfriends, pets, whatever and enjoy some time with the girls.
These events are a time to catch up on each others’ lives, share parenting horror stories and exchange beauty tips, recipes and laughs. The theme, activity or reason for gathering is arbitrary, as long as we come together as women to blow off steam. I remember my shock the first time I attended book club, with my book in hand, to find that half of the women don’t read the book and we rarely discuss it. (I, being an avid reader, was slightly disappointed, but the second cocktail made me feel better.) In summary, our gatherings are the male equivalent of grabbing a beer after work (or so I suspect).
To my knowledge, all of these female gatherings include wine, cocktails or other appropriate alcohol (I’d go to Spanish Club if they served Sangria). Maybe that’s just my group of friends, but I remember my grandmother pulling out the terrifying jug of Chablis (that poured like maple syrup…) to offer with the iced tea for her bridge club. (Emily Post had nothing on those women who were steadfast enough to drink that with a polite smile). Depending on if the gathering is day or evening dictates how much consumption is socially acceptable. Occasionally, there is the added thrill of a gutsy gal exceeding the quota and being the entertainment for the evening.
This last Saturday night I attended a Passion Party. This is the pinnacle of the secret female gatherings. A consultant comes in to provide ideas and products to make life more interesting in the bedroom. *If you are conservative, stop reading, but may I remind you that if you’re a mom, you likely had sex to have a baby and if you’re not a mom, your parents likely had sex to have you – get over it!
Glad you’re still with me. But, lucky for you, the Grapefruit martinis make the evening just fuzzy enough not to articulate. (But I do believe we made the party consultant blush with our comments!) Therefore, if I am not going to provide details of the evening, why do I bring it up? Because it highlights all that is perfect about girls evenings. They are uninhibited, real and can bond perfect strangers. (I can now tell you – but I won’t - who has handcuffs in their homes and who is the most knowledgable about toys). As women, we openly discuss menstruation, children’s’ poop and weight; how is sex any more taboo? We are empowered to speak the alcohol induced truth and share our “wisdom”, humor and most embarrassing stories. We laugh so hard we understand the importance of Kegel’s.
After such an evening, we are rejuvenated - we have the smug smile of somebody holding a juicy secret and some of us anticipate the arrival of unmarked package, while dreading the visa bill. For me, I felt more romantical (it’s my favorite made up word) towards my husband and was more patient with my children. I feel closer to my girlfriends and somehow feel like a stronger woman in general.
So I am huge supporter of female gatherings and all the “secrets” shared there. I also like pages 6-9 of the summer catalog, but that’s another story…
- I don’t belive in manicures. (Although I have vastly different views on pedicures)
- If there is food involved I can be ready in under three minutes to walk out the door. (But you may not want to sit across from me)
- If you’re cooking, I will eat it, no questions asked.
- I drink beer, not just wine and cocktails. The Silver Bullet suits me just fine.
- I love hand-me-downs for my kids.
- My Nieman Marcus is Marshalls.
- Filet mignon and pizza are pretty much on the same level for me.
- Days, okay I won’t lie – weeks, go by without me doing my make-up or hair.
- If I don’t leave the house, I don’t dress up, or get dressed…
- I will camp. In a tent. In the rain. And have fun.