December 2, 1996 Monday
Saturday night got a big boost from Ainsley and Holly Andrews showing up. Maybe I should also first explain (at least one interpretation) of the note they wrote me (“Where the Dancing is Fun, Fun Fun”). You see, part of the banter while working through our long, country-fried nights has sometimes been me saying that I constantly get hit on at the Hub by old cow-lasses. It passes the time, and is obviously meant as a punch-line.
Like last Saturday night. I had had five dollars because I thought maybe Hoke and I would first stop at Casey’s General Store in Princeville before heading on to work in Edelstein. We didn’t, and later I pulled out the bill for Ainsley, saying someone had given it to me as a tip “for just being me.” As another example, three weeks ago I told Holly Andrews this:
“Holly, I wish for once all I could be left alone. Just a while ago one came up to me and said, ‘Hey baby, I just noticed you noticing me, and I just wanted to tell you you’re hot enough to be a fire hazard.'”
Of course, that never happened (although something along those lines has happened twice). I hope too, by only reading this and out of context it doesn’t seem obnoxious. It’s a little outside my normal self, but I mean to mostly make a joke out of it all.
To cut the jokes for a second, I’m still thinking about Christmas Walk, and hoping Ainsley might be able to go. For a small town celebration it’s still heavy on the quaintness: all the shops are open serving free cookies and hot cider, there’s caroling and all the streets are lined with luminaries. And perhaps best of all, above the general holiday cheer, is a horse-drawn carriage ride around the park square.
The idea is to call Tuesday night to see if she can come Saturday night. I hope she can. More to come soon!
No One Will Believe You 