Lady Lucia left the apartment, early this evening, looking razzle-dazzle gorgeous in a form-fitting, navy blue velvet gown, sparkled with sequins. I helped her do her zipper and sent her on her way, feeling like Cinderella ('though Lady Lucia is anything but evil and certainly not my step-sister!) So, why did she go off to the ball (and it actually was a ball, of sorts, that she went to attend) without me? Well, Lady Lucia is one of those strange animals (or, I should probably say, odd birds) known as a "Sherlockian." Sherlockians are not just people who have read the Sherlock Holmes stories and liked them. I have read the Sherlock Holmes stories and liked them. No, Sherlockians are a whole other breed.
Sherlockians have "221 B" as part of their vanity license plate numbers (yes, Lady Lucia does). Sherlockians believe not only that Sherlock Holmes once lived (at 221 B Baker Street) but that he STILL lives. And Sherlockians are willing to pay $150 per person to attend a formal dinner, once a year, in honor of their idol. I am not a Sherlockian and I don't have a spare $150 in my unmentionables drawer. So, Lady Lucia, this one night of the year, goes off to the ball without me.
So, I don't like being left alone on a Friday night while my beloved goes out to a glamorous do alone, but I'm a big girl and a good sport (or at least I try to be) and it is just once a year, so I deal with it. If we lived in Manhattan, I'd probably go off and do my own thing for the evening; see one of my stand-up comic friends in a show or even perform in an open mic myself. Living in "suburban Brooklyn," though, means that it's really not practical for me to go to Manhattan (where the action is) or even other parts of Brooklyn at night, without Lady L. and her car. So I stay home and make the best of it. I read (my current book is Rhys Bowen's mystery novel "Royal Blood") write homilies, write blogs, read idiotic comments on FaceBook, wash my hair and do my nails...
Yes, I am sitting here, still in my ordinary go-to-work clothes, but, gosh-darnit, my hair and nails look good. If I can do nothing else for myself, I can certainly be "my own Fairy Godmother" and use my powers to get pretty. The cats appreciate it. And of course I know that Lady Lucia does, too. She'd be glad to have me along if I were willing and able to spend the $150. But I'm not (willing or able) and she can't afford to spend it for two people and...I won't begrudge her a hobby that has given her enormous pleasure since she was about twelve years old.
I am a big girl and a good sport and Lady Lucia (G-d help us both) is the odd bird Sherlockian I love. Still, I do hope and pray that I won't be trapped in suburban Brooklyn forever; that I'll find a way to click my ruby slipper heels (to change fairy tale metaphors) and get home to Manhattan, where I am free to spread my own odd bird wings a bit.
Meanwhile, it helps to have my OS posse for virtual company, during this Friday night alone. You are my Fairy Godmothers, too. And I am yours, if you want me to be. May we share the good magic, for many, many blogs to come...
Blessings and well-wishes,