Ovulation Alter Ego

I missed a small Girl's Night Out last night at the brewery up the street. I had to work and was very bummed. I am making it up today by going out with my own husband tonight. It's St. Paddy's day, so I'm hoping the bar (which is non-smoking) won't be too packed by the time we arrive, 7ish, early yet not so early. In this college town, the college kids will all be at the smoking bars, not the lame, non-smoking brewery for 30-40 year olds. The place is comfortable in that way because you feel like most everyone there is making a small escape from their children. You can tell by the desperate smiles and sloooooooow drinking of the beer. "Can't leave yet, honey. Look at all the beer in my mug!"


I am in the mood to actually get dressed up to go out. But it's too cold to wear a skirt and such.
It will be nicer jeans and a hip, tight shirt.
Or maybe, I shall just wear something ala Catherine Deneuve.

I am so obviously ovulating. While driving Mr. Senior Guy to a far-away grocery store last night (for Diet Coke, 2 twelve packs for $1.99~ drive 20 miles to get it), I was overcome by images from the previous night from my husband. We had fun laughing in bed, followed by sex. For some reason I kept my eyes open for a lot of it, and loved the way he looked. Kept thinking of him. In that good way that warms your belly like when you're first screwing someone AND you like them. Can't wait to get back to them.

I told my husband all this when I got home. I said, "Lucky me, married 12 years and still able to get those butterflies from time to time."
And he replied, "No. Lucky ME that you still get those butterflies."
"Yes, lucky you. You're right."
Smile.

I've always loved going out for drinks. Always loved people watching. To see and be seen. Love it. My husband, not so much. Yet we've always had so much fun together when we're out. We spent most of our time in bars during our first year or two.
I'd wear the best skirts and dresses. Get drunk, dance, play pinball, eat chili-cheese fries at a coney when the bar closed. Ahhhh, dreamy.

He's already said that if there's nowhere to sit, we're not going in.
There better be somewhere to sit, because I know I will be overcome with a long-lasting, pissy pout if I don't get to have a beer in a bar on St. Paddy's Day.

All right, off to read a book for a bit while E is napping and S is watching The Princess Diaries.
Then to think about how to best emulate Catherine Deneuve. (Wearing a bra in bed shouldn't be so bad, but mine are all fairly natty right now. Not to mention my post-nursing boobs just are NOT the same. I'm feeling a little let down by the whole thing, to be quite honest. That's for another post.)

I have many alter egos. Ms. Deneuve is definitely at the top of the list. With some others, from Fellini films. I'll have to make a list of my alter egos sometime and try to post them all with pictures.
I'm sure they change as I go through my cycle. I wonder if they're all European? Don't I have any American alter egos?
I'll have to put some thought into this.
I think I'm on to a good blogging project. Will post pics of my alter ego, ala celebrities, or not so celebrated (Mommie Dearest?). We'll have to see.