Nope, Sistah Girl rang it in with the good members of Lauderdale County's Rotary Clubs at their New Year's Celebration fundraiser. My first New Year's outing in seven years.
Stepping out on New Year's Eve means sparkles and spangles. The closet has those. No need for added expense. However, this is Ripley. Better check and make sure. "Probably casual." Seriously? At the country club? On New Year's Eve? Decided to go with a dressy, but casual, outfit. Glad that I did. Blended in very well, thank you.
The affair started at eight p.m. The club is ten minutes from the house. The intent was to arrive at 8 p.m., because the lot is small and I just knew that it was going to be crowded. Let the dog out and he promptly became tangled in the bush and needed to be extricated. The temps were in the low 20s and I didn't need another excuse to stay home. Get thee behind me, Satan!
Off I went, arriving around 8:15 p.m. Whoa! A choice of parking spaces. A little disconcerting because the folks down here are punctual to a fault. Okay, church services, yada yada, but they're coming.
Wellll! The Rotarians should be renamed septuagenarians. Now, I'm closing in on membership in that age group but there were more folks over 70 in attendance than those under. Felt sorry for the few who were under 60.
Tastefully decorated (it is the country club, after all) but Lafayette Manor looks just as good. Hearty hors d'oeuvres means "eat at home," if you're smart. Satisfying. Ham biscuits, meatballs, dips, cheeses, and petit fours. Cash bar. Wine on the table. I don't know why we didn't open it during the affair because a champagne fountain was used for the midnight toast. DUH! If my zinfandel was $5 a glass, I can only imagine what the Jack Daniels, Margaritas, and other mixed drinks cost.
A live band! Hot damn! The bass guitarist sporting the Duck Dynasty, or was it a ZZ Top, beard and the bandana was the clue that country was the music of choice. No problem. I like most country music. These boys could play the instruments but vocalists? Not. Butchered most of the songs, particularly Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." I didn't know what they were singing until they hit the refrain. Some bands should just play until they get a vocalist who can sing...or carry a tune.
Lord, it was going to be a long four hours. I quickly made up my mind to exit at ten o'clock. Brave souls decided that they were going to have a good time regardless of the wall flowers. A little couple, well into their late seventies or early eighties were a constant on the dance floor. Cha-cha, hand-dance, slow dance; didn't miss a beat. I'd say that somewhere in their lifetime they took lessons. Cute as a button.
Then there was the glamorous, thin-as-a-rail, blonde, attired in a slinky, one-shoulder, black number, with stiletto heels who, with her date, was burning up the dance floor. She made several mistakes. The first was becoming too friendly with the people at my table. The second was dancing with one of the males at the table. She was quickly shut down. Can you say "Donald Sterling"? Confined to her table and date for the rest of the night.
What about Sistah Girl? Foolishly, she took her round brown, bad back, and even worse bad knee, out on the dance floor to "wobble." Oh, Lord. Even the knee brace didn't help. Was she ever glad to "wobble" back to the table.
Well, looky here. It's now a little after eleven. People-watching is so much fun. And I'm sure that the wall-flowers enjoyed watching, as well. No point in leaving now. Champagne fountain being readied. Oh, and there's a ball to be dropped? Ten, nine, eight....
It is officially 2015! Happy New Year!
Be Safe. Be Blessed.
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