Saturday, May 29, 2010

Roller Coaster Friday

Up, Up, Up

The corsage and boutonnière were in the fridge, the ticket was on the printer, my newly-made earrings lay on the table, and I was in the middle of making a garter to match my dress and earrings.  All the bustle and excitement were keeping me thoroughly distracted from the impending 6pm Bar results.

And then, a phone call.  So long to the grown-up prom.  We weren’t going.

Down, Down, Down

My heart sank.  I was soooo looking forward to this night.  I love getting dressed up.  I love my senior prom dress.  I love that my senior prom dress still fits.  And I love dancing the night away in the arms of a handsome man.

Oh well.  You see, I couldn’t be that upset.  Mr. Trizzle didn’t back out of the prom because he didn’t want to go or anything like that.  No, we weren’t going to the prom because there was something else fun and exciting to do: a birthday party in Napa.

Mr. Trizzle is very good friends with one particular family in the Bay Area, the whole family.  As in he’ll go hang out with the parents, even without their son, who’s Mr. Trizzle’s age, around.  And it was the daughter of this family’s birthday.  There was no way I could ask Mr. Trizzle to skip that, and he had invited me along.

Admittedly, I wasn’t as excited about this prospect as I was about the prom.  It involved no dressing up, no dancing, and presumably a lot of Berkeley liberal talk that, quite frankly, I can do without.  But, I’d also never been to Napa and a trip to a birthday in a fancy house seemed like a nice way to experience it.

Up, Up, Again

Then Mr. Trizzle came up with a brilliant idea.  We could rent a Harley and ride up to the birthday party in Napa!  There’s a place in Oakland that rents Harley’s for – per their website – taking your significant other to Napa for the weekend.  Mr. Trizzle has a motorcycle license.  I’m from Milwaukee (so liking Harley’s is in my blood.)  It was a perfect plan.

I was so excited, I ran to my closet and got out my Florence, KY Harley Davidson shirt sent by my Harley-riding aunt from Kentucky.  I pulled out my Timbaland boots and my heaviest jacket, my CHS letter jacket.   I started packing super light, not caring about much more than getting to ride on a Harley out to a party in Napa.  “Wow,” I thought, “Now I’ll have a great story to tell my wine-loving uncle in Daly City and my Harley-loving aunt & uncle in Kentucky.”  Then there was another phone call.

Down, Once More

Mr. Trizzle came back to his normal self.  Rational logic taking over.  I hate when that happens.  But, he had some good points. 

He never ridden a real motorcycle before, not by Milwaukee standards.  He’d learned to ride on what we back home disparagingly call crotch-rockets.  He’d also never ridden with a person on the back of the bike.  Add to that the fact that it would be dark before we got to the house in Napa and the whole rent-a-Harley thing didn’t seem like such a good idea.

I was crushed, but he was right.  So, I started repacking, and I repacked in true goldenrail style.  Four pairs of shoes, including my pink high-heeled feathered marabou slippers, two swimsuits, glamorous nightgown, laptop, book and work file, a one-night stay.  Yes, I wore all the shoes.

Up, a Bit

No prom, no Harley, but we still did celebrate my Bar passage a bit.  Mr. Trizzle took me out for dinner at my favorite area restaurant, Mayflower.  They have more vegetarian options than you can shake a stick at.  And I got to have my special treat of orange veggie-chicken.  It’s one of the more expensive dishes, so I only get it on special occasions.

Oh, and don’t worry, we didn’t let the beautiful white rose corsage and boutonnière go to waste.  We wore them to dinner, despite not being dressed up.

Up, Up, a Bit More

The stay in Napa was absolutely wonderful.  We didn’t see any wineries, thought I did help Daddy Bunny plant some grapes on his Farmville farm while in Napa, but we had a lot of fun.

dorian and i by the pool croppedWe sat around and talked; we went swimming; we laid out by the pool in the warm sunshine; I made bacon for the non-veggies in the group; and we all went out for real good ‘ol American barbeque. 

It was a walk-up shack with outdoor seating and picnic benches.  A line of Harley’s rested to the side of the eating area, waiting for their matching riders to finish tearing into saucy pork cuts.  I felt hundreds of miles away from Berkeley, not an hour and a half.

The cornbread was excellent, though the three-bean salad could have used a little work.  The meal worked out perfectly for Jack Spratt and I.  He wanted the BBQ, but not any of the sides on offer.  I wanted the sides and no BBQ.  One meal with two pieces of cornbread and we were both very happy.

Riding High

Mr. Trizzle and I came back from that trip so relaxed and refreshed, it was amazing.  We felt like we’d been away for a whole week in a far off land, not away for 24 hours a relatively short drive from home.  It wasn’t the prom, but it was a great time.

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