I am a Work in Progress

While in Philadelphia (oh yes, I was in Philadelphia which is why I have been silent, and I was fabulous in ways I cannot even describe...well I imagine I could describe them but you would be bored to tears) I had dinner with my father's friend, Bob.

First off, Bob should not be named Bob. He is clearly a Robert or something much more debonair than Bob. But Bob he is, so, I had dinner with Bob. (my father's friends are nice enough to pretend I'm interesting...which I appreciate because it allows me to think I'm cool...and also, I love that these men all knew me when my father was 21 and I was born because they are witness to my life story in ways that many people are not...but that's an entirely different story)

Bob drives a little BMW which was fantastic. It had a GPS thing (who knows what the real word is) which I was very intrigued by. And it was very nice to drive through a city in a BMW. I mean you notice how all those other cars are pathetic in a way you don't when you are driving your ten-year old Mazda. We go to a Japanese restaurant at which I say, please, I can eat anything. And I proceed to eat everything that is put on my plate (when is somebody going to buy me Japanese dishes?!?). It was delicious. It was fantastic. It was raw fish and rice and wasabi and it was great. Ten years ago I would have said to Bob, let's go to Chili's, but now, as a grown up, I can say take me where you'd like to take me and I can eat anything. And I enjoy it. I have eaten Moroccan and Thai and Japanese and Indian and I like it all. I am proud of myself. I have progressed beyond the provincialism that marked my youth growing up in a town whose closest diverse food was Italian.

Then we wander out to the parking garage. While waiting for the BMW to come back (I am struck, of course, with scenes from Ferris Bueller's Day Off), I strike up a conversation with a woman (another piece of my progress where I am polite to other people rather than pretending they aren't there). I say, those shoes are fabulous. (she's wearing those plasticy things that I actually find ugly but I understand are very comfortable). She says, yes, I work at the hospital. I say, oh are you a nurse. She says, no, I am a physician.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

I made the classic gender mistake. I assumed she was a nurse because she was a she. I am an idiot. I, of course, immediately own up to my idiotness and she laughs and laughs. I, who teach women and politics, who didn't take my husband's last name, who am more gender conscious than most of the people I know, I made the gender mistake. I assumed based on a person's gender.

I am not so grown up. I have so far to go. I am still a work in progress.