The wicker basket held a jumble of lavender coloured feather boas for a quick sale. Tomorrow, Elsie, Liz and I were meeting for lunch and I felt we needed something frivolous and silly to jolt us out of our normal routines. Besides, the grandkids would get a kick out of the boas if the adults didn't. Before I changed my mind, I quickly scooped up three of the feathery boas and paid for them. I knew Liz would enthusiastically embrace the idea but Elsie was of sterner stock. She was conservative and serious to the tips of her sensible shoes. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I murmured to myself as I walked home with my shopping bag filled with boas.
The next day I suffered "buyer's remorse" and decided to leave the boas at home. Sheepishly I said to Liz, "We were all going to wear purple boas today," and told her what I had in mind.
"You march right back upstairs and bring them to lunch. This will really be fun and it'll put those 'Red-Hat Ladies' in the back-seat for a change!" Cheered by her enthusiastic "all-for-it" attitude, I dashed upstairs, retrieved the bag of boas and charged back. Liz plunged her hand into the bag and drew out a lavender coloured boa. Nonchalantly, she casually swirled it around her neck, tossing one long end stylishly over her shoulders, ignoring the cloud of feathers floating to the ground.
"This is great!" she exclaimed with a huge grin. Buoyed by her reaction, I imitated her casual toss and swirl, causing more feathers to drift to the ground and a few to settle on my hair. Gaily, we waved to a few of our neighbours who looked perplexed at our antics. Bernie gave us a wave and a thumbs-up as we sailed out the door.
Elsie had been waiting for us at her front gate. Her dumbfounded gaze said it all as Liz and I beamed, casually flicking our boas and dislodging more feathers.
"I can't wear this!" Elsie exclaimed. "It's shedding feathers and look, it's sticking to my wool suit."
"But Elsie, this is the first official lunch meeting of the umm-mm. . .of the um. . ." I tried to think of a catchy name.
"The Lavender Ladies Lunch Club," Liz gleefully announced from the back seat.
"Better than those 'Red-Hat Ladies'," I murmured, concentrating on my driving.
"At least a hat doesn't shed," Elsie muttered.
"But think of our wonderful entrance," Liz laughed. As we neared the restaurant, she exuberantly reminded us to "Enter with attitude and panache, Ladies!"
"I think I've lost my appetite," grumbled Elsie, picking another feather off her skirt.
"My neck's getting hot and itchy," I said. "Is anyone else feeling hot and itchy?"
"I swear I've plucked enough feathers off my skirt to clothe three naked chickens," was Elsie's unhappy comment. Liz's sudden whoop of laughter brought three seconds of stunned silence.
"What's so funny?" demanded Elsie.
Liz's infectious laughter had me laughing too. And, soon Elsie joined in as well.
"It's so amazing," Liz chortled, "how many feathers a boa has 'cause we've all been plucking them off. It's shedding like crazy and. . ."
"It's still has tons of feathers left," gasped Elsie and I, between fresh bursts of more laughter.
I would love to say that we three marched into "Samuel's" with attitude, swirling our lavender colour feather boas with panache, but we "chickened" out before we left the car. But despite leaving behind a trail of feathers, we will be practicing our flamboyant boa swirls and carefree attitudes for our next official meeting of the "Lavender Ladies Lunch Club." Stay tune.