You Are Cordially Invited

Occasion: Laura’s Pity Party

Where: The Riverbank

When: Really, really soon

Everybody needs a good Pity Party now and then – that’s found in the gospel according to the not-feeling-so-saintly-today Laura: Party, Pity vs. 3. A righteous “woe is me, for I am undone,” sort of shindig. Where you can shed emotional altitude like an Osprey diving for supper, spoil for mental mayhem, and not get hung up on the sorry task of plucking your optimism up off the ground.

Righteous indignation? Welcome. Liar, liar, pants on fire? Welcome. “I can’t believe” “you wouldn’t guess” “can you imagine?” “who knew?” “everybody-is-out-of-step-but-me and thee, and I’m not sure about thee?” You got it – Welcome. Let’s party!

Perfect posture? Who cares? Slump a little. Find the good in an annoying incident, obnoxious individual, or that organism driving 62 mph in the fast lane of a 70 mph zone thereby holding up traffic for ten miles while letting his fingers ruffle like a pinwheel in the not quite fast enough wind? Not today, thanks. Puleeease.

Those bringing socially correct filters will be asked to leave them at the door. Unadulterated (oops! Well, we won’t have to worry about Josh Duggar, will we? And his wife Anna? “It wouldn’t be godly to be angry?” Holy cow! She must have missed the memo about Jesus cracking the whip at those filthy moneychangers, overturning tables and generally letting everyone know he was royally ticked off.) But, where was I? Right – unadulterated thoughts, opinions, remarks, sans filters? Required.

Say, when is it okay to snort with a major eye roll at someone who simpers, “Just let go, and let God?” #AskingForAFriend, but come to think of it, let’s add that one to the hors d’oeuvres at our whine feast.

Come ready to obsess over what you can’t change, do mental mayhem to those who deserve it, or rail against injustice, oh! and poke a little fun at yourself. The more the merrier. Wicked sense of humor? Encouraged. Stuff inhibitions firmly out of sight, please. There’ll be no proffered solutions allowed, and if the “ting, ting, ting” heralds your faux pas, put yourself in a “time out” until you re-position.

So we’ll have wine (crystal to be provided) and use the Sumerian test. If you don’t drink alcohol, bring your own libation, but I’m all over a big bodacious red. Who drinks Chardonnay at a Pity Party? Back to the Sumerians. Paraphrased (any inaccuracies are mine alone, as are any embellishments): That ancient war council sat around the campfire, or wherever they sat, eating and drinking and thinking up ways to annihilate the enemy. Consensus reached, they slept it off. If, in the clear light of day, they still agreed with the plan, it was a go. But if, upon reflection, said strategy was found to be poorly conceived due to the aforementioned potation, the plan was scrapped. We are going to engage in their “round the campfire” bit. I must confess, however, how happy I am you’ll get to deal with your own “morning after.”

Time: 6:00 p.m. until we no longer take ourselves too seriously.

Who’s game? Who’s willing to lay down justifiable resentments, exercise mental muscles to balance emotional tempests, trust someone enough to “let it all hang out,” and reach for humor?