Many years ago Hubster and I went to the Governor’s Ball in our fair state.
Lest you think it was because we’re political people who have all the money in the world to attend soirees such as this, let me hasten to set the record straight.
I hate politics. I hate politics with a white-hot passion. And as for us being wealthy? If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you KNOW the answer to that, which is, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!” and “HA!”
The Governor’s Ball was held just after the inauguration of the new governor in our state. Our best friends and neighbors were going because he had just been elected as a state representative.
You’ve heard the term “Hate the sin, love the sinner?” It applies here.
They invited us to go with them as their special guests. As it turned out, we didn’t even need an invitation to the Ball. It was open to the general public, which was a good thing, since the public was paying for it and all. And pay they certainly did. There were at least three different areas for buffet dinners, drinks and dancing. Tents were put up on the lawn of the Capitol building to house part of it, and those tents had to be both heated and supplied with electricity. There were chairs and sound equipment and stages and musicians, and special napkins and cups imprinted with the logo and date. There were servers and bartenders galore.
Everyone who attended dressed to the nines in ball gowns and tuxedos. In the middle of the festivities there was a Grand March as all of the State Representative and State Senators were introduced along with their wives/husbands. Then the Governor and his family came down the stairs to be met with applause.
It was quite a spectacle. I don’t think I will ever forget being a part of it. It was like attending a prom for grownups.
What I would like to forget is the way my feet hurt from wearing high heels. Apparently a great many other women suffered the same fate, because almost every female I passed was carrying her shoes in one hand and a drink in the other. It’s amazing no one lost any footwear.
Other than my wedding day, this is probably the closest I have ever felt to being Cinderella.
That is, without losing my shoes.