After weeks of feeling like I've been outside of my life (the trip to Vancouver, guests staying in my house, my parents' visit), I'm finally back to my regular old self and my regular old routine. What that means is that I've spent the whole morning doing nothing nothing nothing but procrastinating important chores and errands and watching horrible tv (have I mentioned that I have no NBC reception, which means NO OLYMPICS?!?!). The other thing I've been doing that is definitivly normal for me is worrying about what to wear to a rather peculiar social engagement I was half tricked into for this evening.
A few days ago the honest-to-goodness ex-jockey who lives in my basement asked if I had seen the show Cavalia, which is kind of like a horsey Cirque du Soleil. I told him no, I hadn't seen it but that it looked really cool. He said he had been making things for the show (he and his apprentice, the future heartbreaker Cesar, craft saddles and stirrups and other equine accoutrements for racehorses) and that he could get some free tickets to a show this weekend. Did I want to go? Sure, of course I'd like to go.
I spent the next two days wondering who I should share my free tickets with. If I got four, that would be easier since I could take some friends from work or invite some people I want to make better friends with from "the group." If I only got one ticket, though, the only person I could think of taking would be Ethan, and as much fun as that would be, it didn't seem like the right thing to do. I crossed my fingers for four tickets.
On Friday I told George I'd be able to make it to the Sunday night show. "Great!" he said. "Cesar, what time does the Sunday show start at?" "Five." "Perfect. It'll be great. We'll be able to go in the back entrance and wander around backstage and look at the setup since I know the woman who's coordinating the show." Um, excuse me? We? As in me, George, and Cesar, or, even weirder, me and George, the man who is old enough to be my father and short enough to be by eight-year-old cousin Sara? Yipes.
So now I'm all worried about this. George is a wonderful neighbor and one of the nicest people I know, but I do find it a little odd that some guy I don't know very well is taking me out to a show. Especially since in the last few months he's invited me down for dinner more than once and last week he asked me if I wanted to play hookey from work and go sailing on the Bay. Yeah. Am I just paranoid or is that really weird?
And while I like to remember his having indicated that Cesar would also be accompanying us to the show this evening, for some reason I'm preparing myself to have him noticeably absent. How bizarre would that be, me and George? Ew ew ew. *shudder* Maybe I'm stupid, but I'm going to go. "Free" and "backstage" are powerful persuaders.
The problem now is what to wear. I most definitely have to look as unsexy as possible, but besides that, what is one supposed to wear to a horse ballet anyway? The tickets are pretty expensive, which makes me want to wear a skirt or some nice pants, but it's also under a tent in a gravel parking lot next to the highway, which makes me want to wear jeans and boots, if I had them. I certainly don't want to draw any more attention to myself than I already will, but I'm not quite sure which way to go with that--risk being underdressed or overdressed. Ugh. Why doesn't the government just issue everyone uniforms already? A nice gray jumpsuit sounds so glamorous right now.Previous Next