Sunday, August 31, 2008
The Guilted Lily
Guilt is regret for what we've done; Regret is guilt for what we didn't do. And "Guilty" is a duet with Barbara Streisand and Barry Gibb (the cute Gibb brother; after Andy, that is) in which Barry wears WHITE SATIN JEANS. Tight. White. Satin. Jeans. But I digress...
The first thing that I felt guilty about this week was that I flew to Fort Lauderdale for a single evening to celebrate my dear friend Robert's birthday. In addition to my carry on, my baggage included Blame, Remorse and a pocket full of Shame; having waved my Jet Blue ticket in the face of work deadlines, family matters and financial concerns.
The second thing I felt guilty about is that I flew all that way to celebrate his big day and somewhere between New York and Florida, contracted a temporary case of Tourettes. This syndrome is certainly the reason why I spent a large part of Robert's birthday talking at length about how now that he was "of a certain age" he ABSOLUTELY MUST HAVE A COLONOSCOPY OR HE MAY DIE TOMORROW. Colonoscopy, Colonoscopy, Colonoscopy; like I had channeled Katie Couric. That's all I had to say over dinner and dessert. That and this...
ME: I should look better for having a gay friend like you. All my other friends who have gays look WAY BETTER than me. You don't even take me shoe shopping.
ROBERT: Excuse me? (except I think he said it like Excuzem-moi)
ME: You have been my gay friend for a gazillion years. So Why am I NOT FABULOUS? The least you could have done is teach me how to wear false eyelashes.
At which point Robert reminded me that he had offered ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS to take me for a COMPLETE MAKEOVER but I always had something to do-or some better way of doing something. He pointed out that he was eager to accompany me to an appointment with the Premiere Eyebrow Shaper in all of New York--but I had insisted that I had come up with a genius method of dealing with my two bushy brows. This method involved shaving instead of plucking, and for a while I was quite happy substituting my Lady Bic for a pair of tweezers--until the hair on my brows began to grow down and over my very eyelids... at which point I went to a Korean nail salon to get them waxed, and the technician called all the other girls in just to see.
Third thing I feel guilty about: because I fell behind at work, Sexyhusbandomine offered to take The Spawn to the beach for the weekend and allow me to take two days to focus on projects that are overdue. This would have been a wonderful thing, had not CBoy come down with a fever of 102 and started vomiting at around nine o clock that night. Luckily, in between ice chips CBoy was able to phone me, and ask me "WHERE ARE YOU MOMMMMMMMY AND WHY AREN'T YOU HERE WHEN I NEED YOU I NEED YOU MOMMMMY MY STOMACH HURTS MOMMMMMMMMY.....AND I THINK I AM GOING TO THROW UP AGAIN..." Me Too. Because nobody knows how to fold a washcloth and get it just the right temperature for the forehead like Mommy. And I am Not. There.
And lastly, a day later, Sexyhusbanomine sent me a video. Today was the first time CBoy has ridden a bike without training wheels, and not being there is akin to missing his first steps. I am assuming the MOTHER OF THE YEAR trophy is on its way. Which is good-I will fill it with wine and then CRY INTO IT.
It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution. Oscar Wilde. (Also a gay man who probably helped his gayelles look fabulous. I'm just sayin.)