Unless it’s a women’s church event…but this post isn’t about that.
No, this post is about the supposed BBQ that Beloved
In the three years that my beloved has been employed in this position, not one of those young men (and yes, they are young men) have laid eyes on Beloved’s little wifey. Sure, they’d heard tales of my existence and they had seen some proof (who, but a loving wife would slice up fresh veggies for her man at 5:30 in the morning and loving pack them in his lunch with a piece of fresh fruit, sliced cheese and the perfect balance of carbs vs. protein?), but nary a one had seen the whites o’ me eyes.
I admit to being a little nervous, after all I think I’m old enough to be at least one of their mothers and it’s been a long time since I’ve walked stone cold into a situation where I didn’t know a soul. I straightened my hair, painted my toe nails, and held Beloved’s hand as we entered the front door. We were greeted by Shiloh, the little hound dog. She was to become my very best friend before that long afternoon was over.
Advice: Always make friends with the dog
The drinking had already started (holy cow, its 1:30 folks!) and the few women folk were busy in the kitchen. The woman not in the kitchen was busy chasing her two children about and I never did really catch her name. I do know that she’s shacked up with the little guy who was sitting across the patio table from me. Tattoo guy was really nice, as was the tall man. The guy who looked as if he was my son’s best friend did his best to engage me in conversation. I think he felt sorry for me.
It seemed like every time we entered a room, it emptied. I looked at Beloved and asked, “Is it me?” and offered to leave and come pick him up later. He said it wasn’t but I did a quick body odor check anyway. The entire afternoon preceded in much the same fashion. I spent a lot of it texting the Singer and talking to Shiloh the wonder hound, because I didn’t know what else to do.
Advice: Just keep smiling
The last time I felt like this I was trapped at a women’s retreat and seriously thinking about hitch-hiking home…
We left before the actual BBQ started.
Maybe they felt funny having Ma and Pa Kettle around as chaperones? All I know is that next time; I’m going to take the first beer (I despise beer) that’s offered me and not stop until we leave.