Wine, Shoes, and Streakers

Because I am lazy and I drink too much wine, I completely forgot to update you on that little party that I had to go to awhile ago. I actually wrote about it and then decided that hitting “publish” was too much work. Since I know the world has been waiting with baited breath, here’s the update. You’re welcome. Last night’s gathering of esteemed (mostly retired) faculty was a ton of fun. True to form:

• No one labeled me as a trashy interloper;
• Certain male eyes not belonging to my husband strayed a wee bit;
• Certain female eyes not belonging to me enjoyed looking at my husband;
• There were several … innuendos … between couples that have been married for longer than I’ve been breathing that probably should have made me a little uncomfortable, but instead made me hope The Professor’s still licking hot sauce off my fingers in 30 years;
• I learned more about the scandalous university in two hours than the sum total of everything I ever learned in college, and maybe the first year of grad school;
• there were many stories; small colleges are FILLED with intrigue, scandal, deception and dramatics and this makes me believe that any good politician should start their career as a college professor;
• My boots, as always, made my legs look sexy as hell.

It really was a fun night. The first 30 minutes are always the hardest, and the most uncomfortable for me. It’s not exaggerating to say that some of these people have known each other since at least 5 years before I was born. But that means I get to hear over and over again: “But that was before this pretty young thing {me} was around.” And really, if you’re going to be called something over and over again, there are worse monikers than “pretty young thing”. We were at the home of someone I actually don’t mind naming – he’s a multi-published author, who just happened to win the Harper Lee award this spring. Bill Cobb can tell me stories for hours, and I will NEVER complain. I took him for a class in college, and even though he exempted us all from the final because he was retiring the next week, I actually learned quite a bit from him. I learned that his wife had just been on a shoe-shopping trip, which was the moment I learned that he has a pretty darn good wife. I learned that at some point in the drug-hazy 70’s the university had a plague of streakers, and it got so much publicity that a school up in the Heathen North started up a little competition to get more documented cases. I also learned a little something about The Modern Novel. Being around 21 at the time, I focused on the shoes and the streakers.