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20 Feb 2012

Gut Reactions.

Written by sally @ 10:08 am — Section: sally

While many children his age have dropped their afternoon naps, Spike still needs his. We all need his naps. The crying and gnashing of teeth that accompany bedtime are multiplied by one million percent without a nap. However, convincing him to be quiet and still for a moment is rough, and so our new routine is that he naps in the stroller. We walk despite the weather. I have bundled him up when it is cold and carried an umbrella when it is raining. The nap is that important. There is a specific route that we take and, like clockwork, he is passed out cold by the time we get to Gillespie Street (The Quietest Street in Belhavenā„¢). On the way to sleep mecca, we pass some beautiful houses whose owners subscribe to the New York Times but sadly, do not pick up their papers. I run over them with my giant stroller and try to decide what time of day it is appropriate to assume that stealing the papers is morally ok.

A few weeks ago we were trudging along Pinehurst and came upon some ladies leaving a lady lunch party. They were standing in the yard air kissing goodbye, and they were all dressed to the nines. (I was dressed to the twos.) There were more platform shoes and gold lame than I’m accustomed to during daylight hours. My first reaction, which I’ve been puzzling over ever since, was to think to myself, “Bitches.” Was it their clothes? Their air kissing? Their general air of fakery and awfulness that makes me feel certain that they were cheerleaders or, at the very least, on drill team? Why do I still think of people in those terms? Then I was relieved that no one I know dresses or acts like that, and then I ran over their neighbors’ New York Times and forgot about it until the next time we passed their house.

Saturday night I was driving home from babysitting for a friend (wait, I get to sit by myself and read a book while your baby sleeps? seriously? sign me up!) and listening to the radio. The dj said, “Carol, Rhonda, and Marlene just called in — they’re having some drinks at the house and wanted to hear their all-time favorite. Ladies, this is for you!” And then “Rhiannon” came on. Somehow, the image of these three middle-aged friends drinking Coors Light out of cans and calling up a dj just depressed me completely. It’s your all-time favorite? Do you not…have it on CD? Cassette tape? Could you…watch a YouTube video? Between the three of you, could you scrape up $.99 to buy it on iTunes? I could see their living room perfectly. There’s a sliding glass door with vertical blinds that leads out to the patio. The couch has that western/prairie/floral print. There’s a set of glass nesting tables with gold accents, a grapevine wreath with wooden ducks and baby’s breath affixed to it hanging on the wall, and no one’s using a coaster.

Should I be concerned that my first reaction to gold lame is “what a herd of bitches” and that a simple request for a Fleetwood Mac song conjures up the set of “Roseanne”?

2 Responses to “Gut Reactions.”

  1. Andi said:

    Don’t be concerned. I have the same reactions!

  2. Sharon said:

    OMG, I just stumbled upon your website and am rolling around laughing! Your wit is delightful! I’ll be back!