As we are getting ready to go out with “friends”, I realized I am out of practice. It is just a football game, and I spent all day yesterday cleaning my house in case someone wants to take a quick trip to the restroom before we leave to drive to Tuscaloosa and sit in a packed stadium. What was I thinking?
I don’t even know the wife of my husband’s high school friend of several decades ago. I barely know the friend. This is his third wife and I put my foot down at the wedding before last that I was not buying any more wedding gifts. I splurged and got something that he could use with how-ever many wives he chose, embroidery towels with only the last name, in nice thick , large Roman letters, very suitable for man or woman, single or married, the last gift, I am standing firm on this one. I hope Third Wife tells me, “Oh, Honey, I married him because he had the most fabulous monogrammed towels, I knew he had to have some class.”
This whole thing was my idea after all. I told my husband several months ago to get some Alabama Football Tickets for us. Before we had kids in College (now Law School) and in High School, we used to be members of Tide Pride. Luckily, years ago, my husband’s old law partner used to be the General Council for the University of Alabama and therefore we got some pretty appealing seat locations, away from the usual rabble and rough, I mean that in the kindest Ann Romney expression of sincerity, “Now , Stop!” Don’t go there. Anyhoo, the need to make sure our offspring are fed and educated properly, forced us to give up the privilege to pay to get good seating at Denny Stadium.
Upon, the unfolding events of the day, what was I thinking? Of course my son would have briefs to write, and my daughter would have a debate tournament, so the idea of a Norman Rockwell moment with my family cheering the Tide was not in the cards.
Instead, I am now , awaiting the arrival of the couple that we will spend an hour or two in traffic just to get to the game, not counting the return trip that with even more crowded traffic lanes. Top that with the stupid mistake that I made a few minutes ago by actually, spraying, Jo Malone Cologne on to my hair by mistake and I have a monster headache already. The good news, is it is not a humid day and my hair looks great, so there is no way I am going to re-wash it and tempt fate. Beyer Aspirin, or Tylenol anyone?
I thought at least my husband had met the third wife, but he told me just before I sprayed the little too heavy-handed spritz of cologne, that he has never said more than two words to the woman. Great, that leaves me to lead the way down awkward conversational lane with only a couple of vague memories of the first two divorcees as a road map. Where is Oprah when you need her? She is off on some hinterland channel and I don’t think it is ESPN.
I asked my Husband if he was driving and he announced, “No, ( not his real name) Bubba is driving. He has a new car. I say well, that is so nice. My dear, husband ever so seriously said, “Yeah he got a new truck.” “What?” , my fear not nearly veiled, “a new truck? Hun, we are quite healthy but not near as small as we used to be.” Are we riding in the bed of the truck on those folding camping chairs?” I knew he was fooling with me, ” No, Dear.” Relief. Then he said what I thought was ,”It is a new sedan.” But actually, what he said was “It is an ex-tend cab.” Holy God! I almost shrieked. Why not just pull a horse trailer, I hear they are air-conditioned now. A trip sitting on a jump seat to Tuscaloosa, is not what I had in mind. We weren’t playing Auburn , for gosh sakes, Barners are used to pick-up trucks and manure.
I know, I am being close to snobbish, here, but I told you I am out of social practice. The Jo Malone fumes are getting to me. It will be fine. I changed out of the nice new Talbots’
outfit I had planned to wear and now have on shorts and a tee-shirt. I wiped up my biggest sunglasses and I am in search for that huge beach hat I bought years ago to keep the sun from giving me cancer. It will look great tonight , game starts at 4pm. I figure it will look all Vogue to most of the nippers sitting in our section of seats by sundown. Gosh, I hope some of my students see me and ask me to join them in their families’ skyboxes. I have on really nice earrings, forget the sandals. At least my toenails are painted a wonderful shade of Crimson, I could serve the hor d’oeuvres . Please .
Maybe by the end of the game , I will have survived the hotdogs and cokes. Nothing will stop me from cheering for the Crimson Tide. I can’t wait for that Rammer Jammer shout down! If Lee Corso can wear all those mascot hats, I can endure a few awkward social moments to see my team. It will be worth it, Roll Tide.
Ahhh, to those that like to count my typos, this was a rush job . As Ann Romney would say, “Stop it! You Chattering Class.” Isn’t she just one mean B—-. I love, y’all. Roll Tide! Catch cha’ after the game.