Woodchuck Martinis
Chapter 26
Bitch Slapped by Age
I’ve truly embraced my age. I mean along with my years has come wisdom and patience, acceptance and the ability to forgive so much more easily than I could in my younger years. But MUST I be reminded of how old I really am? And, wow, what reminders I had tonight. Ouch!
How I let Joye, Kim, and LeAnnie convince me that dancing at Joe’s Gizzard City...home of chicken innards and so much more...was a good idea I could NOT tell you. Trust me it was not the epiphany of the year. Although I must say the band was awfully good and the dance floor was not bad at all.
Of course I was wearing my best pink stilettos and favorite jeans and had just enough cleavage showing to let it be known that I would LOVE to dance. I was actually feeling pretty damned good about myself and my life in general...until...and that’s a HUGE until...the adorable, bouncy little waitress approached me and pointed to a man at the bar.
“Do you see the man at the end of the bar?” she asked.
I glanced as nonchalantly as I could force myself. Being the eternal optimist I, of course, hoped for tall, dark, and handsome, but being the realist expected mediocrity.
And what a far above average surprise was waiting for me! The man to whom the lovely young woman referred looked like he was getting ready to mount a bull and count to eight! His jeans were just right tight and his cowboy boots looked like he’d wrestled an alligator for them. He had a shadow of a beard that looked just rough enough to mean he wasn’t too tame...my favorite!
“Yes, I see him,” I said, trying not to seem too interested.
“Well, that’s my dad,” she said, “and he’d like to buy you a drink.”
Her dad? When had I become old enough to attract the interest of the FATHER of a waitress? Tell me it isn’t so! But alas, it was. I felt SO deflated even my pink stilettos couldn’t boost my ego.
However before I could say anything more I was approached by another rather handsome gentleman who looked a bit my senior but in a kind of debonair way.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked.
Clearly this was just what my imploded ego required and I jumped at the chance. This gentleman was so light on his feet and just the GREATEST dancer. We danced to several more songs and I felt like I could go all night.
When the band took a break I headed for the powder room. My dance partner headed for the bar and as I passed by his buddies they motioned to me.
“Hey, you and Harvey looked great out there,” one of his friends said.
“Well, thank you,” I said, “He’s an awesome dancer.”
“Just do me a favor,” said his friend.
“What’s that?” I inquired.
“Go easy on him. Maybe see if you can talk him into sitting out a few songs.”
“Oh,” I said, “is he not feeling well? I hope he’s not sick.”
“No, he’s not sick,” his friend assured me. “He had a hip replacement a couple of months ago and he just doesn’t know when to stop.”
I retreated to the ladies room where I contemplated the direction the evening was taking, and when I came out I skirted Harvey’s table and headed back to the girls. I certainly did not want to be held responsible for Harvey needing to return to rehab for that new prosthetic joint of his.
Just as I was about to sit down the waitress’ dad approached and I took his hand and let myself be led out to the dance floor again. One of my all time favorite slow songs was playing...Lady in Red. He put his hands on my waist and bent down ever so slightly and held me close.
In just seconds I was COMPLETELY lost in the feeling of this man’s, well...manliness. His slightly unshaven face rubbed gently on mine and he sang along with the song ever so quietly in my ear. We swayed gently to and fro until the song ended and I turned to go back to my table.
The cowboy, however, wouldn’t hear of it. He took my hand again and turned me back toward him as another slow song began to play. He pulled me closer than we were before and gently kissed me. Not a sexy, passionate, all consuming kiss, but one that might suggest that we follow our time shared on the dance floor with something more intimate had we not been total strangers who had shared this very brief time together.
“Oh, my, are you happy to see me or is there a flashlight in your pocket?” I joked in my best Marilyn Monroe voice.
He reached his hand into his jeans pocket then and removed his inhaler which he explained he had been using since his recent bout with pneumonia following his pacemaker placement.
“Oh, dear God,” said Shallow Lucy. “Are you kidding me?”
I returned to the table with the ladies where we toasted one another, our age, our wisdom, and our patience.
Did I say earlier that I’ve embraced my age? Embraced, my ass! I swear tomorrow I’m going to make an appointment for Botox injections!
When the real thing eludes me, I turn to the next best thing.
Orgasmic Pie
12 ounces frozen raspberries, thawed and divided
1 8-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/3 cup butter
1 8-ounce package cream cheese
1/3 cup sugar
1 12-ounce tub Cool Whip whipped topping, thawed and divided
1 6-ounce chocolate Oreo Cookie pie crust
1 6-ounce basket of fresh raspberries
1. Stir chocolate chips with butter over low heat until melted; cool.
2. Drain and reserve the juice of the raspberries.
3. Beat cream cheese, raspberry juice, and sugar until smooth; add melted chocolate. Fold in 3-1/2 cups of whipped topping and 1/2 cup of the thawed raspberries.
4. Spoon half of the chocolate mixture into the crust and cover with remaining thawed raspberries. Spoon the other half of the chocolate mixture over the raspberries. Garnish with remaining topped whipping and fresh raspberries.
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