Monday, June 16, 2014


     Running the title letters together is just a sample of the embarrassment the Queen and Mr. Wonderful feel when we occasionally find ourselves HOSN. When this happens, as it did last week-end, it’s often because we’ve started partying Wednesday night, and by Saturday, we’re not tired; we’re broke. (Well, not completely, but heading in that general direction). To our peers, if you aren’t booked at least 4-5 nights a week, you are not “cool,” and you are aging faster than Kim Novak. 

     When this rare event occurs, we are careful not to let anyone know. We behave in certain ways that camouflage our lack of invitation. For example, we do not walk in front of our windows, and we only light a single lamp in the back of the house. The car is always in the garage, so people don’t think we’re home to begin with. As a matter of fact, when we go to the “club,” people say, “Have you been out of town?” 

     I am also careful not to post anything on Facebook--not a single “like.” That’s a sure sign to the younger generation that their stereotype of lame old people is accurate. If the truth be known, it is amazing how many of them are posting at peak hours. Of course, they don’t even get in the shower to get ready to party until close to midnight. 

     We are cautious about keeping the radio and television at very low volumes so no noise can be heard from the old homestead. Mr. Wonderful has to lie on the floor two feet from the screen so he can hear his Wheeler Dealer show that he’s seen at least four times.

     We never grill out on a Saturday night, as you can’t trust which neighbors might report you to the Social Police. It’s harder to grill in the dark these days, as we have put in an automatic sensor to scare away the deer. We’ve resorted to pot pies that can be nuked in the privacy of our microwave.

     Of course, we never answer our phones on Saturday nights. What moron would expect us to be home anyway? And if he or she is home calling us, we certainly couldn’t expect them to be in our social circle:)

     Once I made the mistake of going to the grocery store on Saturday night. I saw several people I knew, and when I got home, I told Mr. Wonderful that this can never happen again. I will have to go to a neighboring community to shop. Our reputation is at stake, after all.

     Normally, there is nothing, absolutely nada on televsion on Saturday nights unless you want to watch So You Think You Can Fish or Squirrel Sagas. Surprisingly,  last night was an exception. We stumbled on an excellent flick with Sean Penn and Naomi Watts. It was an old film but extremely well done, and it was free---yay!

     Once people are retired, most don’t worry about which nights they socialize, but Mr. Wonderful has it in his mind that “cool” people are always out on Saturdays. Of course, no one says “cool” anymore, so there you go. Maybe I should use my creative juices to suggest a SND show--Saturday Night Dead. It could air on the SciFy channel. Maybe not.