promoting the exhibit

     We're having an exhibit of some of my dad's paintings. As part of the publicity, I agreed to be interviewed.
      I thought they were asking one of us to be on the radio. Wouldn't you think that? When someone says "WFSB wants to do an interview," doesn't that sound like radio? I think it sounds like radio. So I say sure. Lee had already done the interview with The Courant, and El just plain has her hands full. Plus she'd hate to do a radio interview.
     An email comes from the show: the attachment is called ALL GUESTS SHOULD KNOW. I glance at it on my screen, then print it out.
     "Clothing: wear what you are comfortable in! We suggest bright colors as opposed to white or something with a complex pattern."
     What the..
     Then "We do not have a hair/makeup team -- please arrive camera ready."
     Jiminy cricket! I thought. This must be TV. 
   
     It turns out most folks around here know this show. Better Connecticut. Go ahead: let's all laugh together here. Do you see all the funny things about this? There are several, and they're all tied together into a funny little knot.
     Today I set a timer so I would remember to watch Better Connecticut to see what it's all about, and to get a sense of what bright colors people are wearing.
     Oh, my. The hosts are comedians! That's their schtick! I'm sunk. I'll either go flat (no breast jokes here, please) or I'll go goofy and won't be able to stop laughing. Both scenarios seem equally likely, equally mortifying.
     Let me freeze-frame that scene of the damsel in distress and say one thing. I must comment on the strangeness of what I saw during one hour of TV this afternoon. If you nearly never watch TV, it's a real jolt when you do. There's a whole world in there. It's very intense -- that world and the experience. I think I hardly blinked, and it's possible my mouth was agape.
     Anyway, during one of our "What the heck am I supposed to wear for this television thing?" conversations, I say to Laura, "Maybe I should wear the foobs." I've never yet worn them, but being on TV seems like the kind of occasion that might call for the illusion of breasts.
     "Oh, hon," La says, unsure if this is a moment when I might cry, or if I'm being goofy. I'm not sure either, but I decide to chuckle so that she can, too.
     "Nah, I can't do that. I'll just wear a scarf. A brightly colored scarf."
     My hair is so thin these days that I'm worried the studio lights will make my scalp shine through, giving me a little head-glow. That's a thing, I think.
     But the kicker is that bit about arriving camera ready. Since I have never been camera ready in my life, I have given my well-made-up neighbor the task of getting me there.
     Oh, boy!
     Stay tuned, as they say in the biz.