Wait -- weekends are supposed to be restful, aren't they?

So the girl urchins and I lurched from one swingin' event to the next last weekend. It felt like it was just party, party, party! The tall boy and his dad were left to fend for themselves . . .

. . . while the sunny girl and I went to the eighth grade dance. Or to be more accurate, we went to a festive munchies and get your pictures taken party.

She went on to the dance (theme = masquerade, which is hilarious, isn't it? -- since my whole theory of why middle school sucks is that urchins can't be themselves . . . but I digress, which is typical), while I partied with the mommies (and a couple of daddies).

The next morning the girl in charge and I woke up bright and early to go to the Bulldawgs' commencement exercises, because she had a whole lot of pals who graduated -- including her bestie. Since the entire northern Virginia area was as hot and muggy as a Louisiana swamp, we were so glad the ceremony was held inside!

In the afternoon, we celebrated with the BFF and her family at a swell party (fabulous barbeque, y'all!), where the bestie's mother forced me to drink wine with her. She forced me!

The next adventure involved the sunny girl and her own bestie (except they they call each other "biffle" by which they really mean BFFL -- and I am sure you can all figure out that this means best friend for life, but I feel I should translate because Deacon Emil -- who should know better -- was very worried about the BFF's I was throwing around once; he said, "I know that the B is for best and the second F stands for friend. It's that first F that is really worrying me." But I digress, which is typical.) -- wait. I lost my sentence.

It was a pool party! And they swam until 10:00 at night and when they got out the sunny girl was blue, by which I mean blue in skin tone -- not in sadness. And exhausted, which is what night swimming always does to her.

And while she partied with the biffle, I partied with my own pals -- whose son graduated at another high school. (So many graduations were stacked up in our county that CVS ran out of Kleenex. It's true.) I love them so much and it was a fabulous party and Coleen and Tommy Bahama were there, which was a lovely treat. And I laughed so hard I hurt myself, which is typical.

So this has turned into the longest party post ever, which just goes to show you how much fun we had. And I'm not even done yet, people! -- because on Sunday the girl in charge and I attended a glamour-filled extravaganza. You're going to have to stay right there until tomorrow when I can tell you all about it, though -- because it's time to go pick up the sunny girl and then things will get crazy around here . . . .

But just so you know -- our extravaganza involved sparkly dresses -- and dancing!

Step aside, middle school -- we're all done with you here!

So I don't know about you, but I find middle school to be a very tricky proposition, especially for girls. Academically kids are thrown into multiple classrooms during a day for the first time, and into courses that demand more and more of them -- and they encounter teachers who cut them less and less slack. On top of that, it seems like the "mean girl" phenomenon really kicks in to high gear right about 7th grade, and too many intimidated urchins who once said whatever was in their heads or on their hearts just shut down. Too many of them feel like they have to wear a mask -- all day, every day.

And then there's puberty -- that bitch! She whacks our girls over the head with so many changes all at once that I am convinced most of them feel itchy in their own bodies every minute of the day -- and then she stirs up a big batch of hormone stew that makes our sweet girls cranky and sad and giddy and worried and passionately in love and on the verge of tears -- all at the same time.

Middle school sucks.

And that's why the sunny girl is my hero. My tall and graceful ballerina has danced her way through three years that could have sucked her soul dry. Instead, she laughed, sang, twirled, and went rock climbing -- always knowing when to strike a dramatic pose.

She chose great friends and made good decisions and is more than ready to be a Bulldawg. Look out, C.D. Hylton High School: the sunny girl has three more days of eighth grade left, and I am here to tell you that she kicked middle school's ass.

Small pleasures

I love passing by this building, which is on my path only every once in a while. It sits at the corner of two tree-lined streets in Old Town Alexandria, which is a little north of my daily ramblings.

This building housed the Coca-Cola Bottling Works for the Washington, D.C. area, from 1932 to 1961. Those of you who have known me for a long time will remember that I have an abiding affection for all things Coca-Cola, so you can imagine that I give a little skip every time I walk past this corner on my way to the bank.

Now the structure is the home of several businesses, including a kitchen and bath remodeling center on the first floor, and several smaller office spaces up above. This stained glass window trinket is some sentimental office worker's love note to the building.

Yep -- it just makes my day a little happier.

And the point of these shoes is . . . .?

So all of the girls at the prom wore pretty, pretty shoes because it's important.

Dudes just don't get this, but the best dudes will say (just to be nice), "Hey! Are those new shoes? I love 'em!" Or -- even better! -- "For your birthday I want you to buy those new boots you were looking at." These are the dudes we marry.

The styles varied from funky, to elegant and sparkly, to "dang!" . . .

. . . but the thing was that many of the girls whose shoes I loved said very matter-of-factly, "these bad boys are coming off as soon as I get to the prom."

One pal -- who loved her glamorous, glamorous shoes . . .

. . . . didn't even wait five minutes to kick them off.

Now that's a good boyfriend! I wonder what she did when she got to the restaurant?

Look how lovely!

So the girl in charge went to the prom on Saturday night -- and as you can see she was the most stunning girl for miles around.

She and her bestie got together that afternoon and conspired to produce hair that evoked Pre-Raphaelite paintings and dresses that brought to mind Lily Langtry at her most alluring.

Between the two of them they brought the 21st century to a screeching halt and re-created the Belle Epoque beauty and Edwardian silhouettes that made us all drool when we watched Downton Abbey. Are you looking at the detailing on that shoulder?

And I mean, look at the detail on my girl's dress! So delicately lovely!

It just goes to show that you can wear an utterly gorgeous and sophisticated dress without sacrificing modesty or good taste.

When they got together with the rest of their pals it became clear that every girl there had chosen a dress that was true to her own personal sense of style. You'll note that I don't mention the boys. It is a sad but true prom adage that when it comes to fashion, the dudes are just along for the ride.

tangent: Can I just brag about the young woman on the far left of this picture, who has lost 100 pounds over the past year?! What a knockout!

For one pal, the fashion flair showed itself in a bold floral print that made her eyes glow bluer than seems possible in real life . . . .

. . . while another hipster wore a long skirt that, when pulled over her arm, revealed her inner personality. This dress also cleverly allowed her to be cool when everyone else was moaning about how hot they were. And look at her shoulder ornamentation -- fabulous!

The girl in charge had a great night, spending time with her best friends. Our school's prom was late this year -- just a week before graduation -- so she knows that she needs to make her memories while she can.

Snapshot: sometimes going out to lunch is medicinal

Well, so this time last week Coleen and I were headed to Old Town Alexandria, for a long-postponed, much-anticipated, totally necessary lunch date. We have really been missing each other the past couple of months, since we have both gone off to work and our kids have become more and more self-sufficient.

That sounds counter-intuitive, doesn't it? We both always thought that when our kids could fend for themselves (didn't need a babysitter, didn't need a ride, able to find the Band-aids if a sibling inadvertently amputated a finger), we would be golden -- ready and able to take off on adventures at a moment's notice, with tons of time for those long, relaxing lunches under a festive European umbrella.

Oh, please.

As it turns out, we have a much more difficult time now finding time to be gal-pals than we did when our urchins needed chaperones, den leaders and class mommies. Now that they are more independent, both Coleen and I have found work that we enjoy and -- swell feeling after eighteen years -- that pays us. But while I am fulfilling a lifelong dream by teaching English to college students, Coleen works part-time for the Federal Aviation Administration. Because get this, y'all: Coleen used to be an air traffic controller! She has a pilot's license! She knows everything you might want to know about the air space between California and New Zealand! How cool is that?! And how different from reading Chaucer for fun?!

So because in many ways we are leading different lives right now, when we get the chance to go to lunch together, we run for the car before anyone gets wind of our plans -- our time together is more limited now, so it's much more precious.

The food and wine didn't suck, either.

Peanuts and crackerjacks means a baseball game!

So the husband and I went to a Nats game this weekend with some of our besties -- a fabulous time!

The Nationals lost, which was to be expected, but we had fun for the afternoon anyway. Some of us had traveled down from Delaware, so it was good to catch up with each other and bond in between yelling at the umpires and eating peanuts and funnel cakes. Our cheap seats were under a big pavilion cover, so we were even (relatively) cool on a hot, hot day.

This bestie recently had a medical scare -- and can I just say that as medical scares go, it was the scariest. Doesn't he look great?! A beautiful sight, I'm telling you.

There is something about that beautiful green field, and the crisp white lines glowing in the infield, that makes me really happy. I am not one of those uber-fans who keeps the book and knows the stats for all her favorite teams. I just love me some baseball, though.