In the Navy

Y ou see, I am a very lucky woman. Despite all of the horrible things on which I write in the post below, I have the little munchin that came of my "lifelong mistake," as he acknowledges himself. She is a sparkle. I love that she takes note of the world around her - birds, clouds, music, style. She wants to be a model. Okay, so we do talk a lot about fashion at my house. She's just a five year old with her own sense of chic.

But she is also athletic, loves books and she knows when not to say certain things that she fears may hurt another's feelings. She is clever and intuitive and likes David Bowie the best, though she has a marked interest in one of the Girls Aloud videos. She's a pretty cool kid, which I must admit worries me. In my mind, the cool kids were always the ones that did the bad stuff. I was a middle of the road kid who got great grades, had lots of friends and had absolutely no idea where drugs came from. But still, she's cool, and that's cool with me.

I love that our camera pose is so similar. These pictures were taken days apart - me in most of my Halloween costume, she in the outfit she picked out for her birthday lunch with Steve. When I loaded them onto the computer, I had to laugh. She is her mother's daughter. And that makes the world spin aright. She is my pumpkin and no matter how many weeks of the year she spends with the dark side, nothing can change that.

Oh and while I have that Halloween picture up, how discouraging is it to me that I am so not endowed in the cleavage arena that I have to wear a tanktop to keep the little I do have...well I may as well just tell the Halloween story....since I'm here.

It was the Saturday before Halloween...You know, the day when Audrey told me about the penis baths...and Audrey and I were on a mission. Steve and I were invited to a costume party and I was determined to get something English, composed Steve would wear. Since he was working all day at a large Seattle event in his suit, I stroked his ego and suggested Clark Kent. All he would have to do is don some fake glasses, throw a Superman t-shirt under his suit and he'd be good to go. So I went from store to store looking for a Superman t-shirt, braving the crowds of people all searching for last minutes pieces to complete their own costumes. Okay maybe the world has run out, maybe I was looking in the wrong place.

My last resort was the costume store. As I neared, I shuddered at the endless line of cars awaiting entrance to the house of prefab horrors and opted to parked across the street and wondered why noone else had thought of it. I clasped Audrey's hand tightly as she took in the hubbub around. We pushed our way up this aisle and that searching, searching for anything beside the cheesy pre-muscled synthetic fibered Superman suit before alighting upon the felt square section. Eureka. I snatched up a red square, a yellow square and quickly found a pair of plastic black rimmed glasses that perfectly fit the Clark Kent look and hurried to the checkout stand, which none to my dismay wound through the store and back to their curious Christmas cisplays. As we stepped into place, I noted how akin the two burly men ahead of me are to the Swine and his Yakimafia when Audrey asked, "Mama, do we get to go home soon? I'm tired of shopping."

I sighed, "Well, after a couple of hours in line here..."

But before I could finish my sentence the Swine lookalike turned around and said, "Oh no, they're very good here, they'll have you out in a flash." And he turned back to his friend just like that.

I couldn't help but cock my head. Appearances definitely deceived me. When he opened his voice, he spoke in the very definitive manner of a gay man. I took in his appearance again - big? check. burly? check. rough stance a la a few years in prison? check. high-pitched voice dripping with lisps and sing songyness. check? I smiled to myself at how wrong stereotypes can sometimes be as he nudged his friend in the side when a hot guy walked by, whom he then proceeded to hmm and ooh at until said hot guy turned a corner at which time Swine part deux (SPD) noticed something else lifted his arm straight in the air and begain fluttering his hand up and down at the wrist. More burly men, who I swear all looked exactly like the Yakimafia (it's what all of the Swine's friends who moved to Seattle from Yakima called themselves - it's fitting), joined them and they began tittering in the same high voices, same lisps and motioning with their hands in that way that you think of when you think of those stereotypes. It was like biker guys and The Village People had been thrown into a blender and this was the result. I still can't tell if my surprise is inflammatory or insulting, but it was amusing.

The SPD was right though. Shortly after his friends moved on, we zipped through the rest of the line. Audrey and I made one last stop at Target (ahem penis talk, ahem), where I bought a blue t-shirt, and then we hurried to my mom's house.

I helped my sister get ready for her party with the loan of my devil horns and tails and fun makeup and she loaned me her sailor outfit, which she'd worn the night before. When I put it on we laughed hysterically as my boobs or lack thereof totally hung out. "Did you wear a tank top with this?" Nope was her reply. I looked at my waiflike self in the mirror. Well I certainly wasn't going to be the sexy, buxom sailor she'd turned out to be, but I'd make it work. My mom teased my hair and I applied some fake eyelashes and liquid eyeliner. When I was done I was more of a cute, 60's sailor girl, nothing sexy or buxom about me, but it was still fun, though the shoes, oh the shoes, 1 size too small and narrow at the toe, I was dying before I took a step, but I was willing to make the sacrifice for my costume. After I was ready, I took out the pieces of felt I'd bought earlier, looked up the superman logo on the internet, cut the S from the yellow, sewed it to the red and had a wonderfully close rendition of a superman costume after I pinned the logo to the blue t-shirt.

So I left Audrey with my mom and went home to await our departure. At ten I called Steve eagerly looking forward to his arrival. His tired voice answered the phone. "So what's this party? Who's all going again? What are we doing" He asked them all at once. I could tell immediatly that he didn't want to go. I mentioned that I was all dressed up and that I had worked really hard putting together and making his costume and he agreed we could go for a little while.

I called Wynn, "Hey there," I said brightly, "Are you guys already there? Steve is going to be home soon."

"Well, actually we had such a long day, so we aren't going to go. I talked to Lee and they aren't going either. I tried to call you at around 7, but your phone said the network was busy so it wouldn't let me leave a message."

"Oh, you guys didn't go? Yeah, it is kinda late." I made my voice as cheerful as possible to mask the dissapointment. The party is hosted by their friend, so without them I lose my in.

"We're just so tired. You didn't get all gussied up, did you?" Wynn asked.

I popped my squinched toes out of the blue suede heels and smoothed the skirts, "No, no, of course not, I was waiting to get dressed because after Steve's long day, I wasn't so sure if he was going to want to go..." I trailed off and we said our goodbyes.

I slumped down on the sofa and waited for Steve to walk in. When he did the relief on his face made my disappointment worth it, and he thought I looked totally cute and made me pose for pictures. And then we curled up together and watched Shaun of the Dead (Best. Zombie. Movie. Ever.), which you know, was nice, but there were no cute sailors.