We could almost call this The Lost Weekend of the Goose! The fun of the wine tasting party was just the beginning of a wild weekend for the Gooses — the good times just keep rolling on and on!
Yesterday was a glorious 63 degree day in our fair town — Mr. Goose found it appropriate to get his golf bag out one more time and enjoyed time chasing the little white ball around the course with his friends.
Of course, Mother Goose deemed it much more to her satisfaction to apply her “mystery shopper” skills to an afternoon in the city — I successfully spied on many grocery store employees, coercing them with many prompts for product knowledge, samplings and escort services within the store. I am still amazed and grateful that they pay me to do this!
After going our separate ways for the day, we regathered in the Goose home and prepared for the next big adventure — dancing the night away with friends, Michael and Amy.
When Michael informed us that we’d meet at Venuti’s Vlounge at 10:00, we had some reasonable doubts about our ability to meet this social obligation. The bedtime of Mother Goose hovers around 9:30 any given night of the week! However, I love a good challenge and was feeling spunky. Mr. Goose was not feeling quite as energized as Mother Goose, but after a long soak in his whirlpool tub with the extreme jets pounding into his aching muscles, he recovered nicely and put on his dancing shoes.
Away we went!
Mother Goose assumed that we would be dancing to the music of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett and maybe some swing tunes. After all, this is a place called Venuti’s, obviously Italian, obviously suburban, obviously a place for an older crowd (late middle-age…) to gently kick up their heels and waltz gracefully around the dance floor.
In other words, we were not prepared for the DJ mix at the Vlounge or the flashing disco lights or the steady pounding and pulsing beat of this modern dance club.
But we had a great time nonetheless! One thing about Mother Goose, she can easily adapt when her expectations are skewed by her reality. I tasted a nice glass of pinot grigio and shouted some nice conversation with Amy and Michael.
As soon as I heard the remix of Prince’s “When Doves Cry”, I dropped my glass and went charging out on the dance floor. (Prince sounded good thirty years ago, and no matter how you remix him today, he still gets my heart pumping and my knobby knees thumping.) In my zeal, I knocked over a couple of thirty-something women. They were tossing their bleach blonde coiffure and showing off their shapely young legs and moving with all the latest gyrations.
“Look out!” Mother Goose honked at them and stepped over them. “It’s my favorite song!”
Mr. Goose and I stayed on the dance floor until Prince was finished with his song, and then the music morphed into some other heavy beat but we didn’t even notice because we were lost in the magic of the moment. Smiling happily and moving somewhat in time to the music, we each went into our own private worlds of old school dancing. There’s a time for dialogue in a night out, and then there’s a time for just being cool and showing off. Mother Goose tossed back her head, threw her wings in the air and acted out all of her nightclub fantasies there on the dance floor.
Of course, the dance floor immediately cleared out, giving Mother Goose more room for her private dance show.
I remember applause. I remember seeing stars. I remember thinking that maybe I was the star of Dancing With The Stars.
I remember Mr. Goose quietly leading me back to the table whilst the other dancers applauded and cheered. We said our goodbyes to Amy and Michael, and I waved happily and smiled for the cameras of the paparazzi as we left the Venuti Vlounge.
You may know me as Mother Goose, but some call me The Night Goose…