Putting on My Pollyana

So, several posts down, I made some excuses for why I hadn't been blogging - out of balance, things not quite right, etc., etc. And then I proceeded to show you pictures of parties, and chocolate, and spa treatments. What's the problem, right?

Often, we don't have pictures of the bad stuff that is going on. I don't normally take pictures during intense arguments that Keith and I are having, or the abominable behavior of certain 9 and 8 year olds. Although, maybe I should - it might give pause to some inexcusables.

I didn't have an opportunity to take a picture of Keith's car dying, although I should take a picture of his nightly search on the internet for a new - used- car. It has become such a part of our routine now.

And I didn't take a picture of my Grams in the hospital, when she threatened us with leaving this world for a better one. Although, I should take a picture of her now - back at her residence, playing BINGO!, and attending Valentine's parties.

However, I DID get a picture of Keith and I before leaving for his Annual Company Party. What? You don't recognize that as a bad thing? I must tell you that the Annual Company Party is the most dreaded of all dates in my calendar. More dreaded than MY Annual, if you know what I mean. To say that I hate going would be an understatement.

But at least, in year's past, I've been able to "find the glad" as Pollyana would say, and tried to look at it as an opportunity to get dressed up in my finest and have a lovely dinner with my hubby.

This year however... well, this year, Keith's company threw me a curveball. For the first time in 18 years, the Annual Company Party would have a THEME. And this year's theme, my friends was...

Country Western. Lord help me.

Now, maybe at first blush, this does not seem to be such a bad thing to you. But please take into account that I know no females at Keith's company, I had no one to confer with. No one to discuss unknown clothing faux pas. Keith ASSURED me that everyone was wearing jeans, but I was very wary of this. After years of cocktail gowns and high heels, I am supposed to wear jeans and cowboy boots. I wasn't so sure. So, my yearly high anxiety about the Annual Company Party reached new heights. And you see the smile I'm wearing in that picture? That's Love, right there. Painted on for my cowboy.

Now for the Glad:

It could have been togas.
A collective prayer of thanksgiving is in order here. Amen.