The Key is to Have Realistic Dreams

I don't care what Bea told you, I have been very encouraging and non confrontational about her lack of posts, even functioning as an intermediary between her and Management. Management lives much closer to me than her, so, due to the laws of Catholic guilt, that means its much more powerful when someone yells at you. So, between insulating Bea's skittish posting behavior, fielding prods from the Management, pretending to have feelings all of the time, not to mention, all of my flippin' laundry, I realized something: I am friggin Cinderella.  And I watched that movie every day when I was 4, so I am something of an expert. I've condensed the plot into 4 key points, for ease of the reader.

Plot Point 1: The story takes place Once upon a time in a land far, far away

This is the easy part. Below is a map that accurately expresses the geographic clusterf*ck that is my life.

This is roughly where I spend most of time. Not that this far far away place is all that awful. Its just far, far away, and its quite brutal getting back and forth, especially when it snows. Which brings me to my next point.

Plot Point 2: Cinderella works a lot, largely for people who are not her biological family.
Trying to pretend you have feelings is exhausting, and makes most social interactions feel like work, consequently I am always "on". Also, I work a lot. I have two jobs, and most of the work I do is far, far away (see the map). In the story, Cinderella ends up toiling away for her step mother and sisters, people who are not only not related to her, but are related to each other. Poor Cindy. People might underestimate the obnoxiousness of this situation. Not me. I work in a family owned business, for people who are mostly related to each other. This might not seem like a whole big deal to most people, next to the whole she-didn't-get-paid thing. Let me tell you when everyone is either married to and sprung from the loins of someone else in the office, things get complicated, and a little harrowing.  Anyway, that's beside the point. If we're not splitting hairs, we have exactly the same job description: Doing chores for people who are not related to you.

Plot Point 3: She gets to go to a Party, thanks to her fairy godmother

I got to go to a party, due my own (and arguably better) version of this matriarchal archetype: my matriarch. I struggle daily with the fact that at 24 years old, my mother is way, way cooler than I am. (Bea also keeps trying to "get" with my mom, which might give me a feeling, if it weren't for my conclusion that what she thinks that particular piece of vernacular entails isn't very accurate and that she is always a tad weak on the follow through.)  But because my mom is so much cooler than I am, she gets invited to cool parties, with live tigers, and is put on "Lists". This happens so frequently in fact that she casually casts the invitations aside, with the attitude of "oh, poo, its another one of those things. oh hum." (Please note, I don't think my mother has ever said "oh poo!" in real life. Her vocabulary is much too transcendent for that.)

Now, I don't love to go places with people. In fact, if I am in a place with a person, its usually because I froze under the pressure and couldn't come up with a good lie as to why I didn't want to go. But I do love the Twin Cities, for reasons that are very complicated, and perhaps somewhat dysfunctional. And this particular baccinalia was a "Best of the Twin Cities" party, hosted by Minnesota Monthly. The magazine puts out an annual issue that lets you know what is fun and interesting in the cities, from the Best View of the City (Forshay Tower) to best chocolate chip cookie (Franklin St Bakery) to best on-stage entertainment (HUGEImprov). This party is a chance for vendors and restaurants to showcase their wares, and the very hip with tight pants and humungous glasses, who rent apartments with exposed brick get to go and be beautiful and fabulous and trendy together. Also, there were free donuts. (I was mostly there for the free donuts) And free donuts will always lure me out to do a Thing with a Person.

So, I, like Cinderella, put on a pretty dress and went to a party with people I wouldn't see socially and by all accounts were rather indifferent to my presence.

The party was the Aria in Jeune Lune, in Minneapolis' North Loop area.  Now at this point, someone might point out that I didn't arrive by magical means in a pumpkin, but being able to get anywhere in North Loop without getting lost is magic. Plus, I had to pay for parking, so that ought to get me some pumpkin points.

Aria is a large event space that used to be a theater, until a fire destroyed a lot of the inside. When you arrived at the door, held open for you, by cold looking young men in suits, and once they make sure you're on "the List", you get a wine glass and chocolate bar. From there, you get to wander around a colorfully lit room, with tables and waitresses where everyone is either offering you a baked good, some sort of entree, or alcohol. Projectors would cast the illuminated names of the honorees on the walls, as if the delicious martini you were just handed wasn't a reminder enough to drink their vodka.  Twisted Chihuly-inspired colored balloons and giant lollipops hung from the ceiling.

My mom and I made our rounds to all the tables (I went to get a second donut), and enjoyed the finest the city had to offer, and on our way out, we got a bag of candy given to us, courtesy of Alix in Wonderland Candy Store, all of this before 8 PM.

Plot Point 4. All her Dreams come True

For Cindy, her dreams coming true meant getting a prince and and then having to plan a wedding. But, think about it.  I got booze and candy instead of a prince. And instead of a wedding, I got to go to bed early. So really, who got the better ending?