A two-day weekend isn't quite the norm. So on Friday when I realised I didn't have to come in the next day, relisher-of-little-joys that I am, 'couldn't help bouncing about yelping freeee freeee!
Of course that was just the grand build up. Free, my ass! Social engagements, phooie! Who knew the pressure to enjoy yourself could be this harassing. Work generally excuses me of the depression that could well accompany the prospect of merely flipping channels on a Saturday night. As opposed to being in the company of short skirted jing bangs escorted by heavily cologned, fast driving dhinchak boys, all thronging to the one preferred dance joint in town.
And so to de-stress and keep myself away from buckling under the dearth of such "happening" plans, in the build up to my own little party I had promised to grace, I read book bits, had afternoon nap, treated myself to parlour visit , idle shopped some, bought for my turned-forty one year old cousin, Stephanie Meyer, Breaking Dawn. And that along with two giant lavender candlesticks comprised her heppy birday gift, hand delivered to her later Saturday night, at her home, all yellow lit and select crowded, with George Michael in the background. No speeding in rich car engines, no grooving to Superstar, no drunken making out and awkward parking lot moments.
I wore a yellow and white floral printed summer dress for the dinner do. It's something I've been dying to get into since my friend hand delivered it to me as MY birthday present. (Happy to report, complete justice was done unto both the outfit and the occasion. )
Little niece was taught how to win and or draw at knots and crosses; "call it tic tac toe" -- one observer type. Little niece was offered a sip of chili vodka soda, but still being the obedient child, squirt sprang up saying "lemme ask mama and come". Nearly yanked out kid's arm in trying to hold her back from squealing to mama. "You will do no such thing"- me, mock tipsy, thrusting in her cute paws the yellow sipper containing unspiked orange juice.
"We could drink your lot under the table", ha ha-ed grey head chashmuddins to the youngsters, a mixed age group as there was. Lots of old fogies started a fair few sentences with "back in the day..."/ "when we were your age..."/ "I remember in college..."/ "Before we got married..."/ "In the 70s..."/ "There was a time before Christ..."/"Gautum Buddha said to me..." ndless reminiscing, all very patience testing. To me, after a point, it even involved some self loathing; I was wishing for a more happening plan, with a crowd more brash.
Sunday was just long drawn. Gymkhana lunches, and ex-boy rendezvous. Being told that I'm looking bloody anorexic and all traces of a butt have vanished. Keys getting locked in the car at Khan, and wasting time finding steel foot rulers. Home improvement and being dragged along to give my precious opinion on quilted bed covers and whether the curtains will clash. Skipping dinner for lack of anything better to do, giving up the hunt for a favourite pair of missing silver danglers, and finally succumbing and logging on after a conscious 18 hours of staying offline. Hectic weekend, even in the ho hums and intermittent lack of actual plans.