Today is the third annual mega-blast-your-socks-off Superbowl Party, known galaxy-wide for fun, adventure and excitement. Are we ready? YEAH! Are we pumped? YEAH! Are we going to party like we're still 17??? YYYYEEEAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
I'm not a partier. I am the quintessential homebody. I even love to vacation at home with and only with my very favorite peeps. So today is a stressful one for me. I can't let on though. Gotta keep up the game day face.
There's an irony here in that before I was a believer, my moral scruples wouldn't allow me to party. I just couldn't find anything alluring about the whole scene. Girls dressed to impress, standing packed shoulder to shoulder in a small room, music too loud to talk (by design), drinking until their minds were glazed over, the only possible activities being to dance or to hook up with a guy.
Besides the scruples though, maybe I was also just a bit of a nerdy snob. I didn't feel like partying was very classy. Not that I was outwardly classy in the least. I could've used way more class in the way I dressed and made myself up. (Still could!) But inwardly I felt like partying was beneath me.
So now I am a believer, which alone should keep me out of the party scene. Added to that, I am a 49-year-old mother of four children! It is CRAZY that now, NOW, I enter the party scene with a fury, as if to make up for lost time.
Okay, not to beat a dead horse or continue the melancholy tone of the past couple posts unnecessarily, but this is part of what has me a little blue about the kids growing up. I'm afraid this is what I'm left with. Partying with T and company for the rest of my days. Don't look, I'm crying.
Now, to be clear, there will be, of course, no women hooking up with guys at this party. And the women at this party will all be very tastefully dressed. I have come to know most of these people well enough to genuinely like them, even care for them a lot. I enjoy them. In fact, some of them are my very favorite people.
It's only that I hugely prefer more intimate gatherings of two or three couples at a time, as opposed to the big party scene where everyone talks to everyone about nothing all night. By about 10 or 11, I've totally run out of nothing to talk about.
Now, T's nothings are very fun. He can talk about nothing all night with everyone, and keep everyone in enchanted. He's in his glory as long as there's nothing to talk about and lots of people to say nothing to.
So don't mind me. I'm just a little pouty today. I'll report back after the party and tell you all about it, and I'll probably be able to report that I had a much better time than I expected to, as is usually the case.
~ By the way, the careful observer will note that there is no Superbowl game today, only the party. The organizers of Superbowl parties across the country have a bone to pick with the organizers of Superbowl games, I understand, which are always scheduled for Sunday nights. Who can properly party on a Sunday night? So this year the party is scheduled for the Saturday night before the actual game, testament to the expectation that attendees of this party will be in no condition to be up early for work the next day. It is also a comical statement about the role the actual Superbowl game plays at a Superbowl party. ~
12:41 a.m. Sunday
I'm back from the party. Yes, it was actually a lot of fun. I, also, am getting better at saying nothing to lots of people for long periods of time and finding genuine merriment in the process.
I have stumbled on a simple truth that may help me navigate these stormy waters in the future, which is this: once I am happy with what I'm going to wear to the party, the prospect of actually going to the party becomes a much cheerier thought. Today I realized that most of my dismal attitude was due to the fact that I didn't have the right coat to wear, and I didn't have the right necklace to wear with the turtleneck that I'd decided I needed to wear. It was going to be an outdoor party, if you can believe that, notwithstanding the February date. In previous years this warranted my lovely, long down coat, boots, scarves, mittens and a hat. (This party is a yearly tradition.) But this year our February has brought us sun and 42 degrees, and my lighter weight coat wasn't going to fit comfortably over the cute fleece vest I needed to wear over said turtleneck. [Um, no, I don't think it was because I've gained 40 pounds since I bought that coat. Definitely, it was that poofy fleece vest that caused all the trouble.]
A quick trip to Kohl's for a piece of costume jewelry and a clearanced coat turned the tables completely. T was a very good sport about the new coat too. He kept my secret that I'd actually been so silly as to buy a new coat because of the party, and even told me it looked cute. =)
Moral scruples, my eye. You didn't actually buy that, did you?
Off to bed. Sweet dreams!