The Blond Duck Gets Dressed Up

After spending days staring at the gorgeous black dress in my closet, Saturday night had finally arrived. The day began with a hair cut and highlight session (totally coincidental, but very convenient). After I'd been perfumed and freshly coiffed, I pranced back home and piddled around the house doing various chores and counting down the hours until I could slip on my dress. Wiggling excitedly, I put on my makeup and slipped my dress up.

Meanwhile, while I was bouncing around the house in delight, Ben had spent the day hiding. When he wasn't curled up in bed hiding under pillows, he was hiding in his lair.

"Are you excited about the party?" I teased him, bouncing up and down.

I received a scowl and grunt.

"Baby, it'll be fun! We get to dress up!"

He immediately dove under the covers and snarled at me.

"Honey, you've got to get dressed. It's 5:30 p.m.!"

He whimpered and burrowed deeper under my covers.

Eventually, I coaxed him to take photographic evidence that we actually do get dressed up once in awhile.

Isn't the black dress cute? Don't we look stunning?

Snarl free, we climbed into the car and drove to Ben's Work. Once we stepped out of the car, the night turned into a disaster. After waiting on some friends for 20 minutes, we gave up and got in line for the bus that was taking party-goers downtown to the event. Even though we discovered our friends while we were in line, they moved to the back so we weren't able to talk to them.

When we got to the party, we discovered the wonderful food we had been dreaming of for days had herds of people flocking to every line. Hoards of people hovered around each buffet location, clutching plates of food and salivating as they waited for more. We stared at the scene before us in amazement and dismay. My stomach grumbled pathetically and I had no way to reassure it.

"Let's get a table," Ben said. We wove through the event and finally found a few spots. Our friends went to get their food, and Ben and I decided to take pictures. I love pictures. While I was disturbed at the idea of not eating, I was too excited about my little black dress to care much.

Little black dress, little black dress....

While we waited, Ben and I came to the conclusion we would die before we ever got food. Even though we had only been at the party for half and hour, we decided to leave. We promptly bid goodbye to our disappointed friends, scurried out of the party and hopped on a bus back. I coaxed one last picture out of Ben.

As I fixed our dinner at 10 p.m., I stared at my black dress hanging nearby. Beaming, I said, "You know what was my favorite part about tonight?"

"Wearing the black dress?" Ben gave a long suffering sigh. I had talked about how happy I was in my dress all night.

"Well being with you," I smiled sweetly. Ben smiled and switched on the television.

"And wearing my black dress. I love my black dress."

Next year, instead of attending a party, we'll just go out to dinner. And I'll wear my dress.

(Thanks Mom and Dad for the black dress! Merry Christmas!)