Tomorrow I have a play date. I mean, Lucy has a play date - with a child whose mother I have barely met but she used to be a professional ballet dancer so I am prepared to totally dig her and want to set up play dates all the time so I can find out more about where she danced and what it was like and where she's teaching because oh wouldn't it just be such spiffy fun to take a class again? With a former professional ballet dancer? Who is going to be my friend? Hmmm?
I could just kiss Lucy for making friends with this child.
Actually, Lucy had no idea who I was talking about when I told her I had set up the date. I had gotten a call out of the blue from the mom, who we shall call Giselle. Apparently her daughter has been talking about Lucy. We shall call the daughter Coppelia. Lucy wracked her brain and asked if Coppelia has blond hair? Oddly, I could not tell from the mother's voice what color her daughter's hair was. Nor did I think to ask if she was the child who sometimes wears jeans with pink hearts on the pockets. Lucy cannot believe I don't know these bits.
So anyway. We were all set to go to their house tomorrow. This is great news because you know how I feel about having people I don't know come to Trout Towers. And her house is rumored to have a swing set, which means it probably has a tea kettle and a couch with nice fluffy pillows and maybe some classical music in the background and talk of things that don't involve potty training and oh probably a great music library and fabulous books with gorgeous covers and pictures of famous people smiling out of frames with my New Best Friend!!!!!
Oh good heavens.
Today she called and when I said "let me get a pencil" (to write down the directions to her house) she said "can I ask a favor?" Well gosh, I love doing people favors! Especially if the favor can be done while I'm looking for a pencil. And then I will have done her a favor and she will like me!
Except the favor is that they'd like to come here instead of us going there. She already has found her pencil and is awaiting directions. I feel ill.
I think about postponing the play date until after dark, so they don't see the granite sink and the stacks of windows in our yard. Except that as I'm giving her directions it becomes evident that she knows my street and my neighborhood and probably knows exactly which house she's coming to (but in her mind she's saying "no, surely you meant the clamshell driveway? You couldn't possibly mean the house with the ..... oh, oh no, you do)."
I'd love to tell you more, but I have to go disguise 5 of the 7 cars out front as azalea bushes, and then faux-finish the stacks of windows so they look like a solarium.
And did I mention that there will be a ska band recording here tomorrow? She'll be sitting on my couch telling me about dancing with the Kirov ballet and I'll be saying "sorry, what???"