Don’t Cry For Me Argentina
Don’t feel sorry for me when I tell you that we won’t be making our fall trip out to Montana this year. As blue as I am about it, I’d feel guilty if I stirred your pity for me, since the reason we can’t go is because we’ve added a very exciting trip to Belize in November. Plus I committed months ago to join high school girlfriends in New Orleans for the weekend of the Madonna concert. There are simply only so many dollars, so many days out of the office, and so many non-parenting days that we have to spare. So for the first time since the Professor and I started dating, there will be no fall trip to Montana.
Sigh. As it turns out I am almost completely spoiled, but not quite. Limitations do exist.
If you’ve fished out in Montana in the fall you know why all of this is bittersweet. It’s an incredibly special time to be out there. Unlike summer you don’t have to be on the water super early and it gets dark so much quicker so you aren’t fishing until ten or eleven o’clock at night. We fish bankers hours in the fall. We dine at relatively normal times, even catch some college football on TV. It’s ridiculously sane compared to our summer program.
We’ve had some good times out there, I’m not going to lie. Like the time in 2008 when someone may or may not have vomited in our boat while we were inside the Melrose Bar. File that under Unsolved Mysteries. Or 2009 at the old Bandito’s in Virginia City when I ate lamb off of a total stranger’s plate. Or even just last year when we flew into Bozeman, called an audible to dine at the Sacagawea Hotel and ended up staying the night in Three Forks, hitting every bar in town.
Ah, good times. Here are a few shots from our fall trips in the 406.
Despite all these great memories staring me in the face and pulling at my heart strings, there’s no sense living in the past. It’s all down river, I say. And tomorrow I hit the ground in New Orleans for the Madonna Concert Girls Weekend! I cannot wait to spend time with old friends from Nashville – because if you’re going to see Madonna live, you better go with girls you were in middle school with in the 80s. Duh.
Everyone has been talking about their Madonna costume for months. After all this is New Orleans, the weekend before Halloween, and Madonna. One friend is planning to go Cone Bra Madonna. Another is Material Girl Marilyn Madonna. Someone is doing more recent Cowgirl Madonna.
From the get go I wanted to be Evita Madonna. I know every word to the musical and have even been known to take $50 off a family friend who dared me to climb the stairs in the great room of a hunting lodge and belt ‘Don’t Cry For Me Argentina’ over the balcony to the whole crowd. Cha-ching! In my later years I did this party trick for free, not just because people quit offering to pay me (hello times are tough, haven’t you heard?) but because I am just generous that way. It’s sort of like a public service I do for late night crowds. Basically if there’s a balcony, sister goes Eva Perone in a heartbeat.
Finding the right wig for Evita Madonna was no problema:
But I started researching the 40’s style outfits and things got a little tricky. I began to realize I was just going to look like a dour typist in the war department, no one would even know I was Evita Madonna unless I had a balcony and let’s be honest, I can steal a scene but it’s going to be hard to grab the spotlight at this show.
It just wasn’t coming together. I had to concede the costume idea this go round. There’s no way I could compete with the New Orleans professional costume-wearers, hence my goal became simply not to look like a PTA mom. So I’m wearing all black and I just grabbed a Lucky Star wig from the costume shop and some black lace gloves as accent pieces. Basically, instead of going in costume as Fill-in-the-Blank Madonna, I am going as a 42 Year Old Madonna Fan.
Stay tuned friends, I will check back with a full report. And while it won’t have any pictures of brown trout or autumnal river scenes, I predict there will be something dishy to share. Lookout Crescent City, some midlife Harpeth Hall Honeybears are coming your way.
(Copyright 2012 by Christine Warren)
Since I’m not on the water right now, care to share your fall fishing stories? Do you have a certain Madonna song stuck in your head after reading this post? Why not leave it in a comment so others can sing it all day long, no need to suffer alone. Either way, I would love to hear from you!