The Kidney Ball

Mr. Gorman and I went to a ball tonight.  An actual Ball.  Tuxedos and ball gowns.  Fancy ladies, hairdos, high heels, the whole thing.  I've never been to a ball before.  We tried not to go but we were not given much of a choice.  We had to go.  I bought the dress.  We got fancy.  It was a crazy thing.  It seems that, for me, nothing can just happen without some sort of craziness.  Have you noticed?

Mrs. S. went too.  This was a highlight of the ball.  We were happy to be going together.  I like Mrs. S.  I like Mr. Gorman, too.  I actually like Mr. G. more (don't tell Mrs. S.).

Let's skip all of the trauma that's involved in selecting a ball-appropriate gown, okay?  I found one.  Let's leave it at that.  (I do, however, have several in my hatch waiting to be returned before my 30 days expire and I suddenly own hundreds of dollars of random ball gowns for which I have no real use.)  

We survived the ball and now we are home.  I have two photos of Frank and me before the ball but I will not be posting them anywhere.  They were taken by a tiny short child and any photo taken by a tiny short child of a grown, standing adult never creates a flattering photo.  Sorry.  You can live without it.  

I also have several very nice photos that my neighbor took of me and the kids but they are in her camera and she is technologically challenged and I am feeling quite confident that those photos will be forever trapped in her camera.  

SO ... the only photo I currently have to prove that I was ever at the ball is this one.  It is a photo of a photo.  But it is a great one.  It is a photo of a photo strip of me and Mrs. S. in a photo booth at the ball.  It is fantastic.  This photo strip has four teeny tiny photos on it.  It's currently hanging on my fridge.  I took it's picture and cropped it for the blog.  The resolution is no good but that's just too bad ... those pictures are TINY!  Live with it.