The Stereotypical Sorority Girl

We have had a pleasurable few weeks visiting friends in San Antonio and having my Dad and sister spend a week with us in Dallas.  This has created quite a list of potential writing material.

San Antonio was having their annual 3 day cold front during our visit.  It was actually nice to be "snowed" in with friends!  Patricia was taking Sophia and Camryn to a children's theatre to see Peter Rabbit while Juliet snuck in a much needed nap.  

I found myself alone and took the opportunity to play with my new Iphone.  There was so much about it that I hadn't explored. I downloaded Pandora, the application that creeps inside your thoughts and will only play songs that you enjoy tremendously---one after another.   I entered the song "BetterMan" by Pearl Jam and was talking to myself in disbelief as they played equally appealing songs from this late 90's genre over and over again.

"Three Marlenas" by WallFlowers came on and I rolled over on the floor consumed in laughter.  Might I add it was a comfortable roll, Patricia had recently purchased a stunning new area rug from Home Goods.  She was a joy that would light up anyone's living quarters.

Brace yourself for a side of Tracy you may not have had the opportunity to be in the presence of.

The college sorority girl.

It was late August and the Illinois State Fair boasted its usual line up of mediocre musical talent with a catchy headliner.  The son of the great Bob Dylan would be playing with his band, The WallFlowers.

This left us no choice, we embarked on yet another college road trip.

Alcoholic beverages of choice in hand, we had general seating in the outdoor venue.  Situated on the second level, Leann and I decided we were entirely too far away from this stunning creature of God.

Don't get me wrong.  I do not prescribe to Jakob's lifestyle of drug and alcohol abuse, citing enhanced creativity or not.  I also firmly believe that Sigmund Freud would still be the scholar he is deemed without his use of the cocoa bean and designation as the world's first known cocaine addict.  I am lucky enough to be in the presence of a considerable number of creative people who absolutely flourish..... without mind altering substances.

That being said, I am not immune to the sheer intoxication that a vocalist can bring me to.  

Leann and I headed down through the crowd with all the self righteous authority of naive college students.   We mingled ourselves into the dead center of row 2.    

Jakob immediately made eye contact with me.  I did the cursory glance over my shoulder to ensure his interest.

Yes, he was locked on me.

This continued on for the duration of the song.  

I heard mumblings of "Oh My God he is singing to her. " "He can't take his eyes off her."  Young, local High School girls were screaming at me..."He is singing to you!"

Well of course he is budding young ladies......don't you see my stunning platinum blond hair?  Or perhaps he is attracted to the 6 pack stomach that is gently peeking out of my yes, half shirt.  All this to offer and he hasn't even met my captivating personality yet.

I am so making out with Jakob Dylan today.

Without exaggeration, Jakob continues the solo concert for my personal pleasure and as the stadium empties.... I am left standing.  Leann is long gone and in typical fashion, carrying the news back to the group.

The sun has long set and I will need to be pried from my place on the ground.  A sound stage gentleman motions to me from the stage.

This is it!

"Sweetie, he says....If Jakob wanted you to come to his trailer he would've asked us to get you by now."

It took a minute for the crushing news to set in.  I turned on heel to find a completely empty stadium. The silence combined with the size of the venue mirrored my defeat.

Months later on the cusp of a momentous occasion, I attempted to contact my serenader.  

Surely an invitation to my sorority formal would be accepted.

All I can do is hope that Sophia and Juliet don't get a full dose of my intrepid spunk.

An Afternoon That Dreams Are Made Of

Yesterday morning I was talking to one of my best friends, my mother-in-law.  The conversation turned to our cell phones and I.C.E.  (in case of an emergency) designations that Internet circulations suggest we make.  She was telling me that she had I.C.E. 1, 2 and 3.   

I made a mental note to take care of this in the rare event it was needed one day.

There are 2 days in the year I look forward to with unabashed excitement.  The first is my 6 month check up at the Dermatologist and the 2nd is my next 6 month check up at the Dermatologist.  My weakness for tanning beds in the early nineties combined with a strong family history of skin cancer allow me the distinct privilege of participating in these events throughout the year.  

The exuberance surrounding my unique opportunity to be completely naked under unforgiving fluorescent lighting was underwhelming.  

Did I mention the office is only 40 degrees?  

Did I reference that I had both children with me?

We entered the waiting room and of no surprise to me the majority of the patrons were elderly gentleman.  This was the only saving grace.  

My children were going to have the competition of their lives trying to get my attention. 

12 of the 14 wrinkled old men were quietly snoozing.  Hats down over their bald heads, hands gently folded- extending over their large bellies with each breathe and dressed in layers on a warm day.  

The ambience relaxed me.

Sophia climbed next to me on a couch while I gave Juliet a bottle.   After Juliet was done, she started babbling, like most 8 month old children do.  She screamed "DADA DADA DADA" over and over again.

In almost perfect synchronization, the waiting patients were awaken.  

Good, now we can chat.  I am always in the market for a dose of unsolicited wisdom.

Is that an oxymoron...."waiting patients?" 

A particularly overdressed gentleman to my left saw the girls and gave us a most angelic smile.  My face and heart smiled along with him.  An easy invitation for a temporary friendship.  

He began what would be a 30 minute overview of the types of metal that strollers and high chairs were constructed of "back in the day."  He gained credibility by sharing that his oldest grandchild was now 26.  

Back in the day certainly was a long time ago.  

Similar to my in-laws-- his wife has every single one of these gems stored in the attic and while her children turned down her gracious offerings, she held out hope that perhaps her great grandchildren would enjoy a sturdy metal carriage ride or a relaxing meal in the strapping high chair.

His equally stunning wife came out of her appointment and I resisted the urge to hug him good-bye.  We parted ways, each having taken something so valuable from our conversation.  To make the experience complete, he reopened the office door and shouted at the top of his lungs, "If you ever need a metal stroller, we have one for you!"

With that entertainment behind me, I noticed how sweaty I was becoming from toting Juliet around the small confines.  I asked the receptionist how far behind the doctor was.  She said, "Honey, we still have 1:15 appointments waiting."  

It was 3 o'clock---no wonder they were all sleeping.

With mild frustration I shared the obvious information that I had my children with me and wasn't going to last 4 hours.

She offered to fit me in with the PA.  After demanding a cursory overview of his education and experience, I accepted.

I walked down the hall feeling a bit less apprehensive.  I convinced myself that I would be a welcome patient in terms of physique when compared with the waiting room clientele.

The first thing he noticed was my pregnancy mask.  Without asking my thoughts he tailored up a prescription for some magic medicine that used for 8 weeks will erase my Juliet kisses.  I will admit that I put it on quite apprehensively last night.  I love all that pregnancy is and these are the last physical marks representing my journey.

I showed the kind man a freckle on my foot that was making me uncomfortable and before I could say much more the numbing needle was in and she was shaved off.  

A proprietor of honed skill I had him deemed. 

Even after I overhead slight mumblings of "blood vessel."

I got dressed all the while praising the girls for what a good job they did and how patient they were.  

We went out to the receptionist and she immediately shouted, "She's going to faint, get a nurse!"

"Oh my God...I thought."   Forgive my temporary display of selfishness, but I truly just wanted to be checked out.  Take my hard earned money, give me a receipt for flexible spending submission and of course, schedule that next 6 month visit....a girl needs something to look forward to.

Can't the medical emergency wait?

I leaned down to the stroller to get my wallet--- and was aghast to see a pool of blood.  My entire shoe was spilling over and like a faucet, blood was spraying out from all angles of my bandage.  I guess I looked pale.

It was still numb so I didn't feel a thing ---until I saw it.  That's all I needed to get ridiculously lightheaded.  

Great.  No I.C.E. number in my cell phone.  

I can see them calling the stay at home Mom/Ph.D. in Anthropology candidate named Catherine that I just met in Florida.  They will phone Northern Quebec and most likely be distracted by her beautiful French accent.

But......people surprise me everyday.  Let's see what Catherine can do for me.

A nice woman, but a stranger nonetheless, took my girls to sit down.  Sophia had her eyes covered the whole time and for once, I don't think wanted to be with me.  I saw her, she was scared to death of all the blood.  It was in the perfect spot.  Every time I moved, it sprayed and sprayed.

3 shots later, full of blood and cauterized, I was set to go.

I hobbled to the car, light headed or not I had to get to Claudia's---she had a special delivery from San Antonio.