This morning, I awoke a bit before 7, which is rather odd, since- for whatever reason, lately I have found myself wide awake shortly before 6am.

Woke The Boy up and had plenty of time to pour coffee into my gullet in a rather vain attempt to become perky.

At 7.45, I brushed and flossed the teeth, washed my face, brushed my hair and went upstairs to get dressed.

First the nylons- bought at the grocery store- which should be labeled disposable,for they never make a second fitting. The pumps, which I thought were black when I bought them, but are really a sort of eggplant color, which I attempt to hide by many applications of black shoe polish.

Ok.

Not many. Some.

Then the dress, purchased ( half price !) at that big mall in Birmingham, at some fancy ( so I have been told) store called…oh… does Parisian sound right ? What I really wanted was one of those wrap around Von Furstenberg dresses so in back in the 70’s. Found one which looked the same ( half price!) and was very pleased. The sales woman at the store happened to be from New York, and told me that, why, Diane was still punching out those wrap around dresses, what do you know.

I actually sprayed some gel on my hair, to keep the fuzz down, put my hair in a knot with a black bow sortof thing covering the mess, stuck pearl studs in my ears and two strands of Mikimoto opera length pearls around my neck.

Of course, I had no decent jacket to wear and so borrowed some short black sucker from The Girl.

All gussy upped- for me, at least- at 8.45 I walked to the next village- you know, that one that is famous for being right next to our town. About 3 miles. Wearing pumps, on cobblestones.

Today The Boy was confirmed and I was there with him. The Bishop caught on very quickly that I had been raised in a less liberal Catholic church than the Dutch and did not raise an eyebrow when I did not join the crowd for communion.

While an atheist, should I have to partake of communion, I cannot do so without having gone to confession first.

Confession is not done in the Netherlands, and I so I sat alone on my bench, fiddling with the pearls.

The Girl chose not to be confirmed, but as the Bishop gazed into The Boy’s eyes for what seemed ages and then crossed his forehead with holy oil, The Boy’s eyes glowed with the message of the Bishop, to go forth and lead a life of good and kind purpose.

And then I came home and spent two hours filling out the forms for his next school, where- most likely- The Boy will be torn to shreds.

So, a while ago, we visited one of our neighbors. She showed us every nook and cranny of her cozy little house.

So, a while ago, we invited her to come to our dusty old barn of a house . I was informed that good manners insisted that we must- in return- show every nook and cranny of our home.

Guess who has been cleaning the barn ?

The Blue Fairy, of course, toiling and sneezing during the long, long task.

Ok. But the absolute, most humiliating part of the visit was this : we did not have four coffee cups that matched. Nor a sugar bowl, and but did indeed have a chipped creamer.

Ever heard the term Grand Dame ( which , being French, I most likely have spelled wrong) ? That she is. In her 70’s, she has a history which is simply fascinating.

She was very gracious about our shabby coffee shit.

Shortly after her visit, I scoured the net, and we now have a lovely creamer and sugar bowl- on a tray, no less- and matching coffee cups.

So, they are pink. shoot me.

It is Anchor- Hocking, Mayfair, pressed glass, produced between 1931 and 1937.

In the good old U.S. of A.