a date with myself

Note: I was going to blog about Christa McAuliffe and the anniversary of a friend’s death tonight.  Happily for all involved, I’m not in the mood for somber reflection.  Onward to happier topics.

A date with myself is nothing new.  In fact, it’s the norm.  However, it’s not typical for one of these self-dates to leave me feeling…well…blessed.

But tonight some combination of things worked out. 

Perhaps it was feeling marginally healthy after being sick for 4 days.

Maybe it was the skirt/boots combination that I wore to work today, that got me the usual “wow, Jodi, you’re wearing a skirt” comments – great inspiration to slim down so buying cute clothes is easier and more fun. 

Maybe it was the 60 degree temps that meant I could walk the dog for miles in jeans and a light sweater.

It might have been the results of that walk:

Or my very happy (though not really healthy) choice to eat leftover Annie’s macaroni and cheese for dinner, with the promise that I’d have fruit on my frozen yogurt later that evening. 

Or how that frozen yogurt carried me down the street toward the theater, keeping me company as I waited for the train to pass by. 

Maybe it was the smiles on people’s faces as they watched the train; everyone seemed to be in a good mood tonight. 

It might have been the delightful elderly lady who sat to my right in the theater, or the quiet, yet chatty gentleman to my left.  They were both genuinely interested to know that I worked there, and asked me a series of intelligent questions that led to a pleasant evening of pre-show and intermission conversation.

I suppose it also could have been the sublime music emanating from violinist Joshua Bell and pianist Sam Haywood.  It’s cliched, I know, but their music brought tears to my eyes more than once.  And I found it just perfect that I got to meet, and shake hands with, the less famous (but no less talented) of the two, Sam, who was chatting backstage while Joshua Bell signed autographs out front.

Or maybe it was the kind gesture of a colleague, doing something special for me after the show when he really was under no obligation to do so.

Who knows.

Like I said, I’m on dates with myself all the time.  And more often than not, I have fun, but come home with that vague feeling that I’m failing somehow, in not either a) finding a man or b) being so glamorously fabulous that I don’t need a man.  But not tonight.  Tonight, I feel content in my plain solitude, in the knowledge that I talked easily to strangers, saw amazing music played by virtuosos, and looked kind of cute in my skirt and boots. 

What fun.  Here’s hoping for more nights like this. 

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