Ms. Donina Birnnam: I’ll cry tomorrow—or when I get home…
Skye’s 3 years old birthday party today. You gotta love a party that starts at 10am.
Gotta love a 10am party with Bloody Mary’s either with gin or with vodka.
Gotta love German Chocolate cake. Sal clearly does because he ordered cake for 75.
GCC is irresistible, all chocolaty brown, buttery, nutty sweet and delicious.
Cake and Bloody Mary before 12 pm, who doesn’t love that?
Last night after the depressing monthly phone call I went out to get a gift for Skye. My plan to get the ab/cd logo shirt fell through and I ended up in the polar opposite store (all lacy and cutesy with a spacy lady owner). But she did have a couple of beautiful little dresses amidst the cloying vestments all hand smocked with rickrack and embroidery. Very old-fashioned and sweet. There was a stiff blue one with a collar but after suspiciously inquiring about the size, I chose a sunny yellow sundress with white smocking and covered buttons down the back. The lady was clearly disappointed that I didn’t buy the blue dress with the crinoline. “It could be her Easter dress” she sighed. I explained that I might run into trouble with the mom (meaning I didn’t want to buy something---unless it was a pink or black ac/dc logo shirt—-that might interfere with Karla’s taste). She replied understandingly, “Oh the mother wants to buy the Easter dress.” “Whatever, I thought, “little Fatima Esther Muhammad Qing Jiang Goldenstein MAY NOT REQUIRE an Easter dress.”
The lady was wrapping it up and I was pulling out my source of despair to pay. I had already been getting hot eyes and all constricted trying to figure out the size of the dress. Plus all that rick-rack and smocking--and the thought of my kindergarten portrait wearing the navy blue calico dress with the red stitching and the white peter pan collar. And mom gone 10 years now.
Another lady, a “mommy”, who had come back into the store to buy the pink baby doll that her little boy had been requesting (“he’s really been wanting a baby doll.” she explained, needlessly) said; ”Oh it’s so hard to find those old fashioned dresses. My grandmother used to do all that smocking by hand.” “My m-m-m-mother did too-ooo”, I yodeled, as I turned to the door just beating the tears.
So, miserable, with the little dress under my arm I walked towards the Y where I’ve been walking on the treadmill with Mr. ANXIETY nipping at my heels, but being “Nicky Geld”, my abbreviated membership doesn’t allow me go after 3pm so I went across the street to the bar.