I’ve started writing this about three different times now, mainly because I have a few things I want to say, but only one of them I don’t want to sound flip about. The first, and most important, is THANK YOU. Thank you for your kinds words and your suggestions and for opening yourselves up to me so that I know you’re here. Thank you for introducing me to More Women, for reminding me that I’m not alone, and most of all, for reading. Please don’t leave now. I have huge news. HUGE.

I went out in public on Friday night.

I know, this is either a) not news at all or b) completely uninteresting to you. But for me – FOR ME! – it was big. My girlfriends and I had been planning a night out for a while and since lately I’ve been experiencing more panic and anxiety than usual, I was apprehensive. It was Restaurant Week in downtown Raleigh. It was Friday night. It was pouring rain. Our reservations were later than we would usually go out, so already in my mind I’m thinking, Great, my blood sugar is low, the service is slow and here I am packed into this crowded place GET ME OUT OF – Wait. I didn’t think “get me out of here.” I tried really hard to concentrate on sangria gulping and people watching and whaddaya know? I distracted myself and didn’t panic. HUGE. Maybe not for you or for anyone else out there, but for me, it was a small victory.

We ate a fabulous meal, drank some delicious sangria and talked about all the things girls talk about. I tried very hard not to look like a fish out of water; after all, we don’t go out much anymore and is it just me, or are these pre-schoolers sitting over there at the bar? Don’t these girls need a chaperone to be out this late at 10pm?

image by Elizabeth

You don’t have to say it: I know full and well how geezer-y I sound. Every year – every MONTH – I vow to be more social, to go out more, to actually experience the city I live not far from, but every month my house seems to cushion me more and more, like a cocoon, to protect me from what’s out there. You know, like…people. And…stuff.

Anyway, afterward we drank more sangria and I attempted to wear every piece of jewelry my friend Kathy owns. It’s a good look for me, no?

image by Katherine H.

Yesterday morning I FINALLY got over to Kathy’s new place to see what beautiful things she’s done. Y’all, this girl has colors in her house that made me drool, and I know exactly what she’s getting for her housewarming gift…but I can’t tell you yet. It’s a secret. Then I visited my MIL in her temporary house, The Fanciest Hotel in the City, and bought Pop Rocks for BB at The Lollipop Shop. It was a good day. I went out in public, had not nary a freakout and will chalk that as a one-up for me.

Finally, I have to wonder out loud whether or not DJ AM was sucking on the crack pipe when he was dating Mandy Moore. I hope not, because that would kind of change my opinion of her, except not all that much because hello? she married Ryan Adams, the weirdest of all the weird musicians to come out of NC. And I have to say that Vicki Kennedy was absolutely beautiful at the services for Ted Kennedy yesterday – but someone needs to tell Michelle Obama that her god-awful blouse should die an early death.

via Huffington Post

1) You don’t wear the same blouse you wore to the Vatican to Ted Kennedy’s funeral, especially since you delivered the dying man’s message to the Pope while you were wearing it. Moschino or not. And 2) a funeral is not the time for your interpretation of couture. A funeral is a time for a tasteful but beautiful black suit, and surely somewhere in your giant White House closet you’ve got one of those.

I’m just saying.