I think the tea party went well. I had to enlist people to make sandwiches, take out the garbage, frost cupcakes, and keep me from losing my mind, but still, I think people had fun. I was just thinking that when I was a child I don’t remember my parents running around, freaking out that they’d forgotten the soda or to keep me from eating all the puto. Mom and Dad didn’t throw parties often, but they could throw it down for the Flips. When the time came, the house would be clean, me and my siblings would be dressed, and the pancit would be steaming, anchoring a table laden with the pork-infused dishes that were the heart and soul of a Filipino house party.
I had hoped for good weather, but it started to rain Saturday afternoon. It made smoking out on the porch a bit damper than one would normally enjoy. It wasn’t terribly windy, so there was no need for Winnie the Pooh type conversation about how it was so blustery and all.
I got some great gifts — flip-flops, Pocky, a lamp in the shape of Zsa Zsa Gabor’s head, a Bruce Lee puppet that punched, a GORGEOUS bouquet of flowers — roses, anemones, lilacs?, and the Hello Kitty phone from Bruce and Joan that I have to exchange because I already have one. Two cakes, one from Joan and one from Jolanta. A gift certificate to a salon on Rush St. I just about cried, it was such a good haul. Yeah, I know I sound shallow, but whatever. I’d forgotten my parent’s gift, these gorgeous earrings, at work, so I couldn’t show them off. But I didn’t get a chance to put on lip gloss or even change into clean pants. I didn’t even shower that morning (well, I wasn’t especially stinky so I didn’t see the point).
At some point, I went into the bathroom and gasped in horror at the sight of myself — ponytail askew, v-neck top (which had looked so casually chic when I first put it on) covered in cake mix and mayonnaise, patches of dry skin all over my cheeks. I would have broke down right there except that I needed to return to the party and enjoy it.
As evening fell, and guests were leaving, my left thumb cramping from playing with Bruce Lee, I wondered about what to do that evening. The rain hadn’t stopped, and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed with a Beverly Cleary book and a cupcake. I almost did but Joe and Jacinda wouldn’t let me. Many people thought it would be a good idea if I actually left the house. After a while, I thought it would be a good idea, too. So Joe, Jacinda, and I saw the midnight showing of “Quills”.
You know, it was a good movie but I’m not sure it’s a great movie to see right before you go to bed alone in your bachelorette pad at 2:30 in the morning, 3:30 if you observe Daylight Saving’s. I tried to sleep, but the image of Kate Winslet being attacked kept popping into my head. I stayed up, playing computer Solitaire and watching HBO until 6 in the morning. I ate some more cupcakes, too. I feel asleep, and woke up again at 12.
Sunday was beautiful — sunny, warm. For the first time in a long time, I felt happy for no particular reason at all. Usually, I can trace the joy in my life to a specific thing — a cute boy on the train, a good re-run of “Sports Night”, a new pot of lip balm. But Sunday, today (I should be asleep right now but I absolutely had to write this) was lovely, and that was enough.
I took the bus to Old Navy for flip-flops and, as it happened, a spring coat. I’d ordered one from Banana Republic last week but it’s a men’s coat as their women’s clothing seem to top out at oh, a size 4. The coat (http://www.bananarepublic.com/deptmain.asp?loc=man&sid=W8AAGLSU4ESR2L5000A3HBSKA4SU9LUB, if you want to check it out) is nice enough, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was settling. My dad has a similar coat, but his is Navy-issue and therefore cooler. Also, he’s a short guy and his coat was never too long to borrow. I had been admiring Andrea’s roommate’s coat, a bright red cotton trench, but Old Navy had been sold out of her coat for weeks.
Until today. I saw it hanging on a rack of other returned items and immediately lunged forth. I examined the tag — ooh! my size. Threw my other items on the floor and tried it on while trixies milled about, wondering if the baby t-shirts with “Superstar” emblazoned in glitter across the chest would be appropriate for Saturday morning coffee at Starbuck’s. The coat fit, and looked good. $38 later, it was mine. I felt like I had a won a prize for finding a piece of women’s clothing (I’ve been wearing men’s pants for years) that looked alright. So Andrea, just let me know if, the next time we hang out, Jen be there so I don’t wear the coat and embarrass her by looking better in it.
Back to shopping — I found some really nice cheese at Whole Foods, and stocked up on shower gel at Ulta. Also, a few pounds of rice. All in all, a productive exposition to the shops, and I came home to a well-deserved rest in front of “The Sopranos”. It feels good to be a year older.
Oh a few corrections for the last flip front:
1. Steven Seagal is starring in “Exit Wounds” with DMX, not Jean-Claude Van Damme as I’d previously reported.
2. It was Michael who defended the viola at last week’s Oscars party, not Chris.
3. Chris really liked “Yi Yi”.
Am I forgiven?
PS: Chicago peeps, if you haven’t seen “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”, you might want to go check it out at Navy Pier. They’re showing it at the IMAX theater. If it’s still around in a few weeks, I might have to join you. What’s up with me and multiple viewings? Last year it was “High Fidelity” (5 times in six months), the year before it was “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” (3 times in as many weeks). I guess I need to get out more, huh?
Pretending nothing has changed here
But strangely familiar tracks are falling
You came without a warning