Flair

Tonight CityCrab and I attended the opening night of the season at Charleston Stage. CityCrab is on the board and as such we were invited to the opening night cocktail reception. The attendant at Will Call handed me 2 tickets and 2 names tags. I passed everything over to CityCrab (I was bagless tonight - it's one the lesser known benefits of marriage). CityCrab promptly handed my name tag back to me. I waved my hand and answered "I don't wear flair." Of course, he gave me a hard time about this. So, against my will I pinned that name tag to my blouse. We drank, we schmoozed, they dimmed the lights and we made our way to the theater. As I was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for CityCrab, a woman approached me, handed me 2 tickets and asked me where she was sitting. I looked at her and said, "I don't work here." And that, my friends, is why I don't wear flair.

The Tale of the Craigslist Nanny

I only have myself to blame. I see the number come across caller ID and I pick it up. I'm not even sure I heard the second half of the first ring and what I hear emanating from Mama Ruth's mouth is: "Nancy says you have an ad for a nanny on Craigslist. Don't you know people die on Craigslist?" I am speechless. "What?", which is an attempt to buy time. "Craigslist? Do you mean Facebook?"

Backstory: Nancy* is my aunt. A few weeks ago, in an attempt to find a new nanny I decided to let social media do a little work for me. So, I posted a status that read "...is seeking a nanny. Any referrals?" We all know the best way to secure good services is through referrals.

Back to the rest of the conversation:

Mama Ruth: What is this Facebook?
Me: (a lot of mumbling as I attempt to explain social media and the information superhighway to a woman who still wears gloves and a hat when she travels by train)...uh, it's a website where you are friends with people."
MR: "People die there."
Me: In my head I say, "Well, if you post an ad for a tranny hooker, then, yes, people might die there." But what I really say is, "Not anyone we know." This is usually totally acceptable reasoning with her.
MR: "Well, I don't like it."
Me: "Well, I need someone to watch CityBaby."
MR: "If you need me to, I can watch him Wednesday afternoons."
Me: In my head again, "How gracious of you to give up a few hours of your week in between hair appointments, 2 games of bridge and the rabbi's class and how bold of you to assume that I would want my 14 month old son hanging with someone who deems it completely acceptable for him to suck on sterling silver candlesticks. She does, ya know. But what I really say is, "That's OK. I'm sure I'll find someone."
MR: "Well, you better put a big red ribbon on him." Here we go with the Kabbalah crap again. I've learned my lesson here.
Me: "Um, OK."

Then she declares that she has to go. Ah, all is right in the world again.


*All names have been changed to protect the innocent, except for Mama Ruth, that is her name and she is not innocent.