Friday Eve

You know, if you think of Thursday as ‘Friday Eve,’ it seems more like the weekend.  I’ll keep telling myself that, anyway.  That means it’s almost Date Night.

Mr. R. and I are attending a wedding on Saturday.  I’ve been kind of excited about it.  Who doesn’t love an an excuse to get all gussied up?  We couldn’t remember the when and the where so I dug out the invitation the other day.  Here’s the thing:  The service is at 2:30.  And the reception is at 6:00.  That’s an awfully long time.  I hadn’t planned on committing to a whole day for this thing.  Sigh.

I was thrilled by an opportunity we had for Sunday.  We were invited by one of Mr. R.’s work contacts to share a table at a fund-raiser for Big Dog Ranch Rescue, the largest no-kill animal shelter in Florida.

The event is called Wine, Women, & Shoes and it’s being held at Mar-a-Lago, the opulent Palm Beach estate-turned-resort of Donald Trump.  Jimmy Choo is the official shoe sponsor.  What’s not to love about this?

The problem is that Mr. R. works on Sunday.  I suppose it’s just as well.  It would be rough hitting the work week having been out all weekend.

I’ll keep telling myself that.  Just like I’ll keep calling today Friday eve.

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