Book club gone wild

Sunday, I returned home from a retreat with my book club ladies at about 1PM. One of our members was kind enough to offer her weekend house in the Catskills and host a getaway. Our monthly meetings of literary critique and philosophical debates are so often cut short. Though we would prefer to spend hours analyzing each month’s book selection, we all have to wake up bright and early the next morning and be responsible mothers and/or employees regardless of how late we inspire each other with enlightening and thought provoking conversation the previous night. Also, we tend to run out of liquor at about 10PM.

This weekend was actually not about the joy of reading. We agreed to pursue other joys-like eating, drinking and behaving like sorority sisters. Not ever having been in a sorority, I imagined that girls behaved in sorority houses as they do in girls’ boarding schools and women’s prisons. Sadly, I had been misled.

Despite the fact that we did not engage in hot oil wrestling or re-enact the film Girls In Prison,





we did manage to let our hair down and have a fantastic time. How could we not? No kids. No partners. No evidence. I actually think we could have embarrassed ourselves a lot more than we did, but we managed to maintain a respectable level of decorum-or at least that’s the story we’re telling. I’m not going to be the one to say otherwise.

I can tell one truth that will not betray anyone in particular. Suburban mothers are dirty, and it makes me proud to be a member of the sisterhood. Thank you, ladies, for a fantastic weekend. Next time, we’ll all jump in the water instead of this one brave soul who shall remain nameless.

After a weekend of civilized debauchery, I arrived at home unwashed and exhausted but fully expecting to have to relieve Gabriella from her single motherhood duties, and she says, “We weren’t expecting you until later. Why don’t you go take a nap?” I know, I know, I’m so lucky...Gabriella is so good to me...She’s so selfless and thoughtful....blah blah blah. She does have flaws, you know, but now is not the time. It was a pretty amazing offer, and I didn’t protest. Sadly, I was unable to fall asleep. I’m bad at naps no matter how tired I am. Wasted opportunity.

I spent much of my restless quiet time thinking about the week ahead. Not very relaxing, I admit, but I’m a planner, and I need to be on top of things. Well, I try anyway. This week I must focus on pulling together enough material from the blog to use for a reading or perhaps write something new altogether. I’ve been invited to read during the Art By The Ferry on Sunday, June 7 at 1PM at the Fish’s Eddy site in St. George, Staten Island. Art By The Ferry, as you’ll read on the site, is a festival that “highlights the wide variety of excellent visual arts, crafts, spoken word and performing arts on Staten Island in spaces provided by local real estate developers, restaurants, galleries and the Staten Island Museum.” The festival runs June 6,7 & June 13,14 from 11AM to 6PM.

Staten Island is not just about land-fills and Mafiosos, you know. Well, I didn’t know until I found out about this festival. There’s culture pulsing through the veins of that borough, and you'd be stunad to miss it. If you’re local, check it out. There will be music, art, activities for kids, food and performances this weekend and next. Check out the site for details. And after my reading, I’ll be throwing my thong underwear into the crowd and raffling off one of my children. Ok, not really. But I will sign your ass with an indelible marker as long as you bring the marker. Times are tough, you know.

On a completely separate note, many of you have inquired to my friend Mark’s response the roast he received after begging me to literarily and publically paddle his naked bottom with a wooden spoon. Mark has since responded to his spanking in the comments section of that entry and I feel has added the maraschino cherry to my Shirley Temple...or should I say mustard to my relish? Confused? See post.