From Sticks to Nicks

Pick Which Chick's Stevie Nicks

The only thing I have in common with Stevie Nicks at this stage of my life, beyond an artistic appreciation for scarfed tambourines, is the gradual facial Landslide we’ve both been on since Rumours came out in ‘77.  But having procrastinated over finding a costume to wear to a Halloween party last Saturday night, I did a last-minute rifling through our closet, past the Earth Wind and Fire selection of tie-dyed apparel (Andrew’s side … natch), and found this feathered hat, bell-sleeved top and black velvet cape that confirmed the fact that our closet really should belong to the wardrobe mistress of a glam-rock reunion tour.

It’s not often you get to check yourself at the front door and socially venture forth as somebody else, so if there was ever a time I was grateful for the conversational crutch, I’ll admit this shindig was it.  Hosted by the parents of one of Bodie’s Select Hockey teammates, the party was for Titans and their families to reconnect at the start of the season and to welcome new players and their families to the group.  With only four new kids added to the roster this year, it felt a bit like crashing a family reunion, but we suited up, the screaming ghost, the leprechaun and two Stevies (Nicks and Wonder), and made our way to the event.

As we approached the zombified house, the front lawn was thumping and I had a flashback to a bad grade nine Halloween house party where, as a chubby teen, I went dressed as a frumpy cleaning lady alongside my cute kitty, sexy bunny friends.  They spent the evening flirting with all the boys while I stood in a corner of the living room joke-dusting the cobwebs and nursing a newfound disdain for Halloween parties.

But that was a long time ago, before I married and gave birth to my own posse, and while we didn’t know a soul when we first waded into the fray, we left having made some friendly new acquaintances.

I guess Stevie was right.  Time makes you bolder, children get older, and I’m getting older too.

Yeah, she’s getting older too.   (Whoa, sorry … I meant me.)

Leave a Reply


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.