About the only interests we share are living in cities, singing and helping other people. Though I like her well enough and she thinks highly of me, I always feel a little out of place when I'm around her. I feel a shade shabbier than usual, and find it difficult to believe that it is I who sits next to her, sipping lattes and debating the finer points of office hierarchy. We are so different! Perhaps we bond merely because we are both clever people around the same age on the lowest rung?
She remains an intelligent and capable talker despite the vast gulf in our hobbies and interests, and our personalities mesh fairly well, so we hang out when we can at the office. We haven't seen each other lately, though, as she was recently "promoted" to cover for the executive assistant for an undetermined period of time, and I have been insanely busy trying to coax our small printers through just one more set of this or that.
This morning, we journeyed far north to a Goodwill in deep suburbia, where the bargain shoppers are ruthless in their cart maneuvering and where there are never enough dressing rooms. The line for the privacy of a small box was so long, in fact, that Ms. Grant and I agreed to share one. We traded shirts and compared pants, and though the experience was fun, it felt almost foreign. About the only shopping I do on a regular basis is for body and brain food (groceries and books), which is probably why my "professional" wardrobe is severely lacking and also why I find being decidedly girly so bizarre.
I succeeded in obtaining some office-appropriate attire, but the most awesome purchase was this pair of ... well, we couldn't quite figure them out, which is why I had to get them. They seem to be fancy overalls, and they evoke images of Mario going to a black tie event back in the early 90s, or of the Plumber trying to morph his classic wear into a jumpsuit of sorts.
As I stood for about a half-hour in the pouring rain with a silk dress (wrapped in plastic) in one hand and a camera (protected in a miraculously water-resistant case) under my other arm, I grew quite irritated. Rain is fun in the moss and mud, or when one is searching for beautiful stones whose pattern is only revealed when wet, but when one is tapping one's foot most impatiently and wishing the bus would come now, precipitation loses serious cool points. When I finally got home, soaking wet and rather chilled, I threatened my absentee umbrella with replacement. It is still missing, but something somewhere must have heard me, for lo and behold, it is not raining today!
The love of cupcakes is strong in this one!
Tomorrow, twenty years will have passed since this picture was taken. That I was once so small seems strange.