It may be the puppy or may be an attitude-shift, but I was up at 7:30 this Sunday morning, fairly bright-eyed and eager to get this day started. We are having friends over for barbecue and Arnold Palmers at 2:00, and we needed to get a few things from the grocery store. I was raised to go nowhere without my hair fixed and a little color on my lips, because, says my mother, “If you don’t, you’re going to run into an old boyfriend.”
So when I dashed upstairs this morning to spit-comb my hair and throw on yoga pants and a fleece, I also dabbed on a little lipstick. And I grinned and remembered this story.
My hometown friend Melissa was on bed-rest with her third baby. I was home for Christmas, and wanted to see Melissa. Her life was kind of complicated at this point, so she suggested that the best time to really visit would be before her two little children woke up. “Just throw your coat over your pajamas and come over!” So I did. No shower, no curling iron, no makeup. Just my flannel jammas under my winter coat, and probably a pair of loafers, no socks.
We had a lovely, quiet visit. Melissa’s husband was at work, and her children weren’t terribly early risers. But when they did wake up I helped to get them breakfasted and dressed. Then little Claire got an invitation to play at her friend’s house in town. I overheard Melissa saying that Claire couldn’t go, because she had no way to get her there.
“Oh, let me take her, when I drive back to Mama’s. As long as I don’t have to go inside or anything.”
Melissa assured me that Claire would just jump out of the car and run in.
“Where am I taking her?”
“To [insert name of high-school crush here] ‘s house. On Lexington Ave. His little girl and Claire are best friends!”
You know what happened next. There I sat behind the steering wheel, with bed-hair, and no color on my lips, when HSC walked right up to the car to fetch little Claire.
Because God is obviously a woman. In fact, God is probably Mary Kay.
ginnygram 