The Adequate Caregiver

September 17, 2010

The adequate caregiver took a mid-week night off from being a wife, mother, caregiver, lawyer. I am genetically predisposed to being early. I need to remember this and intentionally fool myself into being late so I get places appropriately on time. Last night, I attended a fashion show for local designers last night – and a fundraiser for an organization that sends kids to summer camp.

I think I was the 2nd person to arrive. The other woman in line works at Microsoft. Her name is Lee and she is a darling 29 year old who wore Prada pumps and carried a Prada bag I might have fought her for but for the fact that there were some pretty burly guys guarding the door. We discussed her struggle with all of the choices she has in life, whether she should marry the man she is with who is similarly struggling with choices, whether she should have a baby with him, alone, or adopt. We had A LOT of time to chat. And it was nice to talk to someone who was struggling with a bunch of stuff that is only theoretical. I don’t begrudge her for that fact. I am actually quite jealous.

I attended the event with a friend I worked with at Nordstrom two lifetimes ago. To say we are friends doesn’t adequately describe our relationship. Her mom identifies me as her blonde daughter. She is Japanese. It is very rare that I feel tall. Giraffe tall. With Patrice’s mom I feel like a Viking. Anyway, the festivities started at least an hour late during which time I met some amazingly strong and influential women including a rocket scientist. I was also introduced to a man who compensated for his slight stature with a big presence. He somehow shook my right hand so hard it made the wine in my left hand slosh down my arm.

The high point - SPD cops modeled men's clothes. Not quite as cute as firemen, but they will due in a pinch. The low point - the high bidders on the auction items got to walk the catwalk. Their outfits were appropriately gorgeous with fake perky boobs, Botox, puffy lips and really short skirts. It was all a bit much but fabulous for people watching. But, from the second row, with their micro-minis, it was hard to avoid seeing what kind of undergarments they were wearing, or not. How much material must there actually be to qualify as a panty? A particular leopard print pair were more decorative than functional. Much more fun to watch were the cops (the female cops - not so much).

I left at 10 o’clock, tired but appreciating how delicious it was to be driving through the torrential rain, in a part of town I usually only pass through on my way to Costco, at an hour when I am usually asleep, wearing impossibly high and uncomfortable shoes that were totally worth the pain they inflicted.