P,
Do you and the oldballandchain have a "forsake you for no others but…" list? Apparently, it’s all the rage these days. Although I’ve never given it much conscious thought, I guess I’ve always known that if George Clooney were to pop by for a cocktail, I might not even remember I had a hubby and many children. Didn’t find it necessary, however, as part of the wedding vows to remind my foxhole partner that I would happily abscond with the first celebrity to show me his million dollar smile if given the opportunity. Nor do I need to know if it works in reverse.
Now, indulge me, P, because here’s how I see my scenario playing out. You, the oldballandchain, hubby and I are having dinner in, perhaps, Cafe Milano, a venue known for movers and shakers. We are seated at the bar, waiting for our table, when Mr. Clooney enters the establishment (he is known to occasionally frequent DC–at least during his failed attempt to produce the little known "K Street"). We immediately lock eyes and he asks if he may buy me a drink. Hubby, shocked, immediately tries to defend my honor. Somehow the oldballandchain goes down in the scuffle. I ask the boys to stop doing this on my account and tell them there’s plenty of me to go around. I take hubby aside and gently remind him of our pact, and although there’s no million dollars waiting for him in the morning, I will see him then. Much like the scene in An Officer and a Gentleman, when Debra Winger is carried by Richard Gere triumphantly from the factory floor, George hoists me like a rag doll and carries me to parts unknown. The entire restaurant, even you, dearest P, is applauding.
Sorry to end so abruptly, but youngest cherub has just left me a potty training nugget on the carpet. Who says, however, dearest P, that teaching young girls their fairy tales as children is a bad thing? Although Cinderella must inevitably descend her throne, she can always remember the night she danced. Or thought she did.
Faithfully,
C.
