The terrible horrible day (Saturday) caught me off guard, because I was so prepared to have a fine day. I had been invited to a baby shower for one of my nieces, Emily, who had the beautiful Ruby Mae a few weeks ago. It began at noon and included lunch. My sisters and their female offspring would all be there. Very nice.
The night before, I bought Ruby Mae this amazing dress with tucks in the bodice. I had it gift wrapped with a striped ribbon. I had Tom make a card on photo shop with Ruby Mae's name across the front in pastels. Seldom do I get it so right. Preparedness is not one of my aptitudes.
On Saturday morning, Tom reminds me that we also have the opera that night in Salt Lake. My body dips a little. A shower and an opera in one day is a bit much for me. I suggest we stay in SLC overnight, so I don't have to come back and forth. He makes a reservation. I now have to pack a few things, which puts me behind.
I carry it all out to the garage and stuff my little Fiat. Maybe I put Ruby Mae's gift on top of the car while I pack other things in.
I get to the shower and there is no gift for Ruby Mae.
I call Tom. He looks around. No gift.
I say I may have put the gift on the top of my car and left it there. Tom gets in his car and drives around the neighborhood looking for Ruby Mae's gift. Nothing.
The shower is fun even without a gift but not as much fun as with a gift. I spill strawberry juice on the front of my white blouse. Thank heaven, I have a scarf.
I leave and go to the the SL Roasting Company and sit nursing a cup of Chai, which makes me cough every time I take a sip. I am overdressed, but don't care. I should spend more time in coffee shops. I think about a novel written on post-it notes.
I check into the hotel. The strawberry stain doesn't entirely wash out. I hear church bells, which lift me up. Tom calls. I will meet him at TRAX and will get money for parking.
I go to Harmons and lose my debit card in the ATM machine.
I pick up Tom. We go to the Capitol Theater and find our seats. The opera is Mozart's Cosi vanTutte.
I hope for l8th century extravagance.
The curtain rises to early 20th Century simplicity, the lighting cutting shapes for windows. I'm disappointed.
Still, Mozart doesn't disappoint. The singing is good. The comedy is well directed.
But I find it hard to suspend disbelief on the plot where the two women are tested for their sexual disloyalty while the men are not questioned about any of their equally egregious sexual behavior.
The expensive shoes I bought last week kill my feet. I will have to return them.
The fabric of my skirt is easily snagged. My nose runs. I play Cwazy Cakes until I fall asleep.
Say it aloud Cwazy Cakes.