Happy Early Hour

My friend, let’s call her GeGe because she’s trying to wean her grandchildren from calling her Granny, and I , a proud, strong, very very  astonishingly young looking MeMaw, like to step out and have a couple. two, tree.  This ,in her husband’s Bronx accent,  means havin’  a  tipple or two.  Her husband is not from the Bronx, and that doesn’t even matter.  All that matters is we get our regular Heckle and Jeckle stools, ergonomically correct for my right and her left handed ways.

The bar / restaurant we favor is — real stroke of luck here — is three minutes from my home. Right in the perimeters of my Comfort Zone.  Gege and I meet and eat and greet people we know.  We tipple and we laugh and we laugh and we tipple and we tip toe to our cars ( not tipsy, just happy, I promise you) and we always get home by 7:00 which thrills us.  I’m back in the bed before my dog Lausche even realizes I’ve been gone.

But here’s the thing; the thing about solitude and always driving.  All I ever look for in a parking lot is my own car !  I think I’m doomed if I don’t spot it, because I memorize my parking spaces or else I’d wander on blacktop forever.

The other night — yes, my birthday — my great friends took me to the Comfort Zone Restaurant for dinner and a tipple or two.  It was a riot, so much fun, yum yum steak, and we go out the door.  I am starting a quiet panic as I glance around the lot and don’t see my little PT. I am jingling keys in my pocket a and jangling my nerves inside and I’m looking and looking and finally Jill asks me, What the hell?  Steve has gone to get the car.

Forgot.  Thought I’d driven myself, because that is what I always do.  Sometimes you get a glimpse at your solitary being , when out, actually out, enjoying the laughter of  your peeps.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 11th, 2010 at 12:28 pm and is filed under Secretly Seeking Solitude. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.