I also, in true Pontius-fashion, waited until the very last minute to start putting in my hours. So I've been spending my evenings this week at the Santa Monica Moose Lodge.
There's minor cleaning to do, but never enough for the 5 hours each night I need to be there.
Tonight, there was a pot luck and after offering to help an elderly lady grab cookies out of her car, I ended up at the bar chatting with her all night. Her name is Brenda. She's been a member for 64 years, drinks VO and water (easy on the water) and has buried 2 husbands, 3 lovers, 1 son and 1 sister...and she warns, "Be careful around me, I seem to be the only one left in my little circle."
I learned so much about this woman and I couldn't get over how saucy she was for being 88 and hanging at the moose lodge. At some point she sashayed past the pool table teasing the 20-somethings about checking her out and even stopped to do a turn to give them a second look. She complained about bitter step children and gossiped about men in the bar.
I mostly listened.
And then we commiserated/puffed our feathers about being Scorpios and how the world needed to watch out.
Of course she talked about the "good old days" at the lodge and the crazy Friday nights she had there. And she did a fabulous job at trying to convince me to be a Woman of the Moose.
I could go on, but I won't.
The whole experience -- the smells, the oddly mismatched crowd, the fancy jewelry -- it was all my sunshine.
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