The Angel in the House

Otherwise known as... Getting Close to a Room of My Own

Yesterday I believe I had the most perfect girls' day imaginable, barring spending the day in robes, sipping on cucumber water, having our every whim attended to in a glorious spa.  No, this girls' day out took place entirely in the Biggish Town Next to My Small Town's quaint downtown neighborhood.  No spa required.

I met Lil Bit and Spring at 3 Sisters at 11:30 for a bit of sustenance before moving on to our purposeful destination:  The Clayhouse.  A number of months ago we bought Groupons to do just this:  Enjoy an afternoon out together, painting pottery, attempting to make something beautiful, and bonding throughout the process.  Mind you, I am more than 10 years older than these lovely girls, but we have a common interest:  We all work at My Small Town High School and we all love our kids.  And we're all single.  That bond alone solidifies us on many levels.

We painted. We commiserated.  We got in touch with our creative sides.  We spent three plus hours at the Clayhouse getting our designs just right, and then went on the the rock star portion of the afternoon.  About halfway through the painting session, I asserted, We should get a drink after we finish painting.  

A fun drink or a drink drink?  Ummmm... what other kind of drink is there when one says, Let's get a drink?  Fun, of course!

When we left the shop, I suggested Vintage Vino, the downtown wine shop, if it was open.  The time was approximately 4 p.m., and I knew they opened around 5.  As we approached, I could see the door propped wide open.  Score!

We stepped inside.  Hello?

Hello?  I heard John's muffled voice in the back.  A second later, he emerged.

We'd like to get a glass of wine, but I can see you're set up for an event.  There were wine glasses perched atop all the lovely tables. 

That's okay, just have a seat in the back.  He gave us menus, and we perused the selections.  A few minutes later, another would-be patron attempted to enter, but was politely refused.  They don't normally open until 5, but we slipped under the radar in finding the open door.  Soon after that, our server locked the door.  There was no doubt about it:  We were rock stars.  The feeling of having the whole place to ourselves was exhilarating.  Even though we were only having one drink. 

We talked more, we sipped our vino, we enjoyed the ambiance.  It was a perfect girls' day out. 

As I drove home, I stopped by Target to buy some frozen berries for this morning's breakfast, and texted one of my English teacher friends who lives in the area to let her know I was about and up for visiting.  Come on over! 

So, I went over, watched old Frasier episodes on DVD, and talked shop.  We made plans for next Saturday evening-- Le Coq au Vin, courtesy of Orlando Magical Dining Month.  I love Orlando Magical Dining:  All the chi chi restaurants in Orlando have prix fixe three-course menus for $30 a person.  Neither of us have ever been to Le Coq au Vin, which is fortuitous, as we will get to enjoy the experience together. 

By the time I arrived home, my friend sent me a link to a Virginia Wolf essay entitled Professions for Women.  The writing took my breath away, and touched a number of relevant nerves.  My mom has lived with me since mid-July, due to her house flooding this summer and the ensuing renovation period.  I struggle daily with the notion of being the good, accommodating, watching-out-for-her-widowed-mother daughter (the Angel in the House) and just the opposite, which I cannot even bring myself to describe, because I love my mother so, and I know this has been as hard for her as it has been for me.  I hold my tongue a lot, and then sometimes I don't, and bad doesn't begin to describe the feeling.  But mostly, my tongue is held, as is my breath, because we both know that it's just about time for her to move back into her place.  The cabinets and bathroom vanities are being replaced this week, which is the final step to her house being once again inhabitable. 

Thank goodness.  We both need a room of our own.