Day Off

Saturday was a good day. I met Fran after she got off work at Popovers for lunch and wine. The mistake I made was that I decided to wear these fabulous boots and the boots led to the sweater. But first came the boots -

I love these boots and I got them for a good price but they are as uncomfortable as they are beautiful! Not only are the soles slightly curved so that you need intense concentration and strong ankles to walk in them but they require a kind of confident walk from the wearer that speaks of grace, poise and an "owning of all she surveys" that takes some real character acting for me to pull off.

I had optimistically decided that I would undoubtedly find a parking spot right outside the restaurant and I could just (confidently) limp the short distance inside and find a table. As it was, there was no parking and after circling the block several times in growing desperation, I ended up parking in the parking garage. When wearing flat shoes, the garage is mere inches from everything in Portsmouth. Today, however, it was an epic journey, complete with all the appropriate suffering of the martyrs!

I left the car, went down the stairs,


up the street toward the church,



navigating the crumbling brick sidewalks

with as much dignity and poise as I could muster.

It was with great relief that I finally (three minutes after leaving my car) made it to Popovers and found a table!


Fran had not yet arrived, so I ordered the beef and barley soup and got the tomato bisque instead which is what I really wanted anyway.


After a few minutes of awkwardly sitting alone and feeling the growing panic that comes to me when I realize I may be sitting alone indefinitely and have not brought anything to camouflage myself against scrutiny, a book, note cards (Why do you think I started the letter writing kick?), a large hat. It's not that people can't see me, it's that I can forget that they can. Kind of the adult equivalent of hiding under the sheets to be safe from the monsters.



I tucked my hair my hair behind my ear for the seventeenth time and accidentally made eye contact with a middle aged woman sitting near me. She locked eyes with me for a long awkward second and then turned back to her friend. Just as my mind began to play her inevitable dialogue with her friend discussing everything from lunch choice to my sweater - you have to understand about this sweater, it's great and it goes perfectly with my boots!

I knew I was going to wear it to Popovers since Fran suggested that we meet there this morning. I'm trying to think of a way to explain how I feel about "outfits". Once I know what I'm going to wear on any given day, there's not a lot of flexibility in my mind about it! Certain clothes work together. And if they're together, I look awesome, seventy pounds lighter, brimming with youth and vitality! And if they're not, it doesn't matter what I do. It's just an ugly day. Which is why, when I left the house and dropped this sweater in the mud on my way to the restaurant, I didn't once think about going back inside and getting another sweater. This was the only acceptable way these clothes work for me! And there was no way I was going out with Fran for a late lunch on a Saturday ugly. A little mud on the sweater? It's brown anyway! However, with this woman looking at me, I felt that the sweater was shouting the story of it's neurotic owner and of the abuse my inflexibility heaped upon it!

Luckily, just as my mind turned down this dark and dangerous path, Fran showed up and saved the day!

She proceeds to order us a bottle of Riesling

and tell me a hilarious story about her boss, a woman who sounds like she lacks any internal monologue. A woman who'd spent the morning holding the phone to her ear while she shouted into the speaker phone. A woman who repeatedly curses her customers and interjects into delicate negotiations over pricing with enough hostility to effectively sour the exchange.

As she was telling this story a couple came into the restaurant with their very young baby and took a table near us. They had a stroller/baby carrier/car seat with them and used it to block the entire aisle between the tables, effectively cutting off our escape route.

We had no real desire to escape at that very moment but that hardly seemed the point!

This, of course, led to the inevitable conversation about people who not only choose to have children but who also see fit to take them out in public!

We relaxed into our comfortable, lazy criticism of those around us,

drank our wine,

and made plans to go see a movie!

Ah, Saturday! You should have seen me trying to walk back to my car after the wine though! Definitely worth the price of admission.