My own homecoming queens

Two new comments on my blog this week, one from a dear sister I wish I knew better and another from a dear stranger, have re-energized my interest in blogging. I know my faithful commenters, all six of you, might find me just a tad bit ungrateful. But to have a few new readers say nice things about how my writing has made them feel, well, it was kind of like sitting with Chip as Don Draper walked by and gave me the once over. My commitment is renewed to both the old and the new, but the new is just so sexy!



Homecoming weekend. I don't think homecomings were much of a scene in my youth as I only remember two games and certainly no dances. Kind of back to the fifties here in the midwest. I half expected to see greasers and a few Pink Ladies in the parking lot this weekend. The football game was won Friday night. Saturday, so much planning and coordination of moving bodies between hair and makeup application, picture taking, eating and dancing. God forbid we would eat where our photos are taken as we are so very very grand.

I did actually use a sewing machine, not well I add, to alter one dress and said a prayer to St. Gabriel, patron saint of God's strength, over the zipper of Olivia's strapless dress. Not unlike planning a military mission to Afghanistan, we spent many hours in the war room discussing covert operations in the use of a pashmina as emergency halter top. Prep started at 4pm and all were primped, photographed, fed, and tottling oh so precariously in heels toward the high school gym by 8:30pm. Chip and I dropped and ran...to Otto's for a strong, debriefing martini.