I have long believed that I would have excelled as a bar server. You know the kind that wears a cute outfit and knows all the patrons by name – that is soooo me. Well, it could’ve been me, but I haven’t actually fulfilled that dream yet. I might have had some shot of living that dream in California, but not so sure there are too many options in North Dakota for me.
Yesterday Fifi of LoveFifi.com fame sent me an email advertising a beer garden girl costume. Seeing that costume reminded me, yet again, that I have yet to fulfill my dream. I mean really – look at that outfit – how cute is it? Doesn’t it just scream, “Who’s your favorite server?” I do believe it does.
Now I know what you are thinking. You are thinking my beer garden girl days have come and gone. You are thinking that I have finally gone around the bend and it is time to schedule the competency hearing. You think it crazy that I believe I still have the time to fulfill this dream. But I ask you, isn’t the day we give up on our dreams the day we start to give up on life? Isn’t it dreams that sustain us?
Sure, I may be one of the “older” beer garden girls in the mix, but you would be hard-pressed to find a more enthusiastic one than me. I, after all, have been waiting a few decades to fulfill this dream.
Now all I need is a beer garden – an indoor one preferably since we are in North Dakota. Give me one weekend with my little beer girl outfit and a room full of happy drinking people and I should be able to put this dream to bed. Then I can move on to my other unfulfilled dreams.
Next thing you know I’ll be looking for my Jane costume and wondering what I need to do to properly secure a vine. What???!!! You are shocked that I have an unfulfilled dream to be Tarzan’s object of desire? Come on ladies, don’t tell me you never wanted to be Jane and have a muscular, wildly attractive man in a loin cloth grunt at you and say, “Me – Tarzan.” I know I am not alone on that one. Anyone who wants to tell me how impractical and potentially unsafe it is for a woman my age to swing from a vine, will have to come over to the beer garden this weekend and talk to me while I am working the room…yeah, I’ll be the one in the pink skirt with the green apron living the dream.
Day eight hundred and thirty-six of the new forty – obla di obla da