Monday, April 8
I wake up in a cold sweat.
Four days until my very first event
in The Art of Female Friendship series.
It seems like there are still loose ends to be tied up:
The agony of seating 180. (Whoops: by mid-afternoon there are now 200 who have registered.)
The stumbling I’m still experiencing in three different parts of my 40-minute featured presentation speech.
The inability to remember if I told the venue staff that I needed a podium? And a lapel mic?
Breathe, Iris, Breathe.
Tuesday, April 9
In spite of the tumult, I take sacred time for a mani and pedi.
Drum roll: After 34 years of wearing Big Apple Red polish, I brazenly switch to Deep Purple Passion in keeping with my Preserve Your Bloom garden theme.
Wednesday, April 10
The indecision over what I’m ultimately going to wear continues – fueled by the reality of the northern direction the scale has been climbing in spite of my efforts to lose “the big five pounds” before “show time.”
I waver in my wardrobe choice:
Subdued professional?
Boho funky female?
Aging drama queen?
Do I dare expose my 76 year-old upper arms?
Do I step-up the tanning lotion routine to cover up the broken capillaries hugging my knees if I decide on a dress that barely covers them?
Do I just chuck the whole wardrobe dilemma and shimmy into a flowy black dress and totally blend into the black curtain which will be behind me?
Eek!
Thursday, April 11
I begin assembling everything on my dining room table that needs to go to the venue.
I panic. I can’t find one of my major props. (I find it.)
I panic. I forgot to decorate one of the signs I’m using in my presentation. (I decorate it.)
I panic. The number of people we had to turn away due to reaching room capacity has grown every day. (Will these ladies ever forgive me?)
I panic. At 8:14 pm, I actually realize that I have forgotten to write my weekly newsletter. I’ve been writing my weekly newsletter for almost 40 years and I have never FORGOTTEN up until now. (I sit down to write it.)
Friday, April 12
If you are reading this, my event is over.
My car is filled to capacity with table decorations we will re-purpose and use again.
The PYB Step and Repeat backdrop that so many snapped pictures in front of is now tucked away in its carrying case.
The plastic bins that housed my hand-knitted pouches I gave to each woman attending are now empty and stacked in my front hall.
And the pile of loose papers detailing friendship issues that will be addressed at our next event on August 28 are still in the venting vessel where they were placed earlier.
Picture me in my bedroom:
The wooden shutters are closed to block out the bright afternoon sun.
The boho outfit I decided to wear is now crumpled on the chintz covered chair in my bedroom.
My too-tight shoes are piled on top of each other in the corner where I haphazardly flung them.
My old flannel nightgown is wrapped around my body.
My carefully applied mascara is smudging my white pillowcase.
My phone is on silence.
And I am fast asleep.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,