Wednesday, October 10, 2007

There is Something About 50 Or That's My Excuse

So back to our annual sisters vacation. Since no SISTER is blogging about this lately I guess I must admit my only embarrassing moment. We all know that the week before going on our trip I had my 50th birthday and because of this I will and do claim that the following incident was because I was in hot flash, memory loss moment. OR it could be that I have lost so so much weight that my fingers are now delicate tiny sticks (NOT).

On Saturday night since it was our last night together we decided we would need to make reservations. After all when there are eight women barrelling through a town as small as Joseph, Oregon they need to be warned. We chose a place called Calderas, which by the way if you are ever that way is spectacular. Not only was the food top notch but the glass art work was amazing even though it was a tad expensive. But the really great thing was THE BATHROOM!

As we walked in the waitress looked us over a little cautiously. When she found out that we had made reservations a great look of disappointment come over her face. Or maybe it was shock that those hillbilly women could dial a phone. Well she seated us and we were all looking around in utter amazement at the purty little baubles on the walls and in antique hutches. We barely were able to order because one or the other of us was up and down looking at stuff. But then Charo made the mistake of using the restroom. She came back and said in her cute little Spanish accent "it is quite nice in there". Well I thought that she meant that "hey this is a notch above the gas station bathrooms where you have to scrape the toilet seats". So I decided I needed to check it out. I daintily, with great manners, excused myself and wandered back to the restroom. All I have to say about that room is "WHOA"!!! I thought I was in Donald Trumps private bathroom in the Trump Towers. There were glass tiles everywhere and it was the cleanest bathroom I have ever been in. I wanted to order dinner and eat in there it was so cool but Barb and Kristi wouldn't let me.

We were all seated for once and had ordered. While we were waiting for our food I sat idly listening to gossip and such while twirling my wedding ring on my finger. I was at the end of our table which was quite long and to my right were two nice looking gentlemen I judge to be close to their sixties or so. They were in deep conversation and were doing their best to ignore the cackling women next to them. Well I couldn't let them get away with that could I? I gave my ring one last twirl and it flew off and rolled right under their table next to their feet. I mean UNDER the table. They didn't notice what had happened....why would they?

As I sat there and looked at my lonely little wedding ring lying next to a rather large foot UNDER, did I say UNDER their table I wondered how in the world I was going to get that ring without those two men noticing. I could go find a fire alarm and pull it all the while shouting FIRE FIRE! But after looking around and not seeing any alarm to pull I quickly thought of other things. Maybe I could faint and fall off my chair in kind of a large exaggerated way so I could fall under the table and grab for the ring. But after imagining all the ruckus and having the ambulance come I decided that it would be too much trouble and I certainly didn't want to end up in some little hospital in the middle of Northeastern Oregon just by faking it.

Well I sucked it up and just quickly (as quick as my lumbering bum could) scurried over and had to crawl under the table and grab for the ring. Grab for the RING! Sounds like I won something doesn't it? Now when I say crawl I mean on all fours, crawling and saying "Excuse me, excuse me, I lost my ring", my nose right next to a hairy leg. These men were just watching me with an amused look on their faces. Or maybe it was shock.......I can interpret it any way I like. After plowing back to my seat they leaned over to ALLLLLLL OF MY LAUGHING WOMEN COMRADES and asked if I often made a habit of this. The only thing I could think of, but didn't say, was this is how I get dates. This story reminds me of the great pea story at a fancy French restaurant on my honeymoon. Must be the pig trough blood in me.



Jill said...

ha ha remembering this still makes me laugh, as well as the great blush that started at your toes and crawled all the way up to the tips of your hair!

The Dairy Wife said...

Love the hats! That is so funny.

I need to have my three sisters and I to do a few days vacation.

I think you have a great thing going on there.