I'm sitting here, barely conscious, and drinking my coffee as though it can redeem me. Some people find coffee rejuvenating but all I have going is the psychological boost. At the doctor's suggestion, I've been decaffeinated for some time. This coffee is shooting blanks.

You see, I was the one who did the middle of the night run for the prom-goers. Kat drives (and she is a good driver for her age) but she correctly suggested that her driving at 4:00 a.m., after the post-prom chaperoned event and after she had been up all night, was not a good idea. Her date, P, does not drive at all. P's mother handled them before the prom and took them there. Mr. Philately was doing the 11:00 p.m. run to pick up Day from a party and the early morning run this morning to take her to work. (Kat usually is her ride but Kat had arranged not to go to work.) So, I did the 4:00 a.m. run. I went to bed at 9:00 p.m. last night and survived the early hour much more cheerfully than I thought I would. Still, I'm a bit dazed today.

Getting Kat ready for prom took a committee. The biggest committee, the find-Kat-a-dress-committee, had assembled in Phoenix back in March. It was a good thing that Kat found a large dressing room because she had to fit in her fifth-grade cousin, her aunt, Day, her grandmother, and occasionally her mother. Luckily, Dillard's personnel acted as though a committee like this one was an everyday occurrence.

The next members of the committee were my father and a Russian couple who were not even sure how they became part of the committee, especially as they had never met us before. We agreed that it would be difficult to take the dress on the plane so we decided to ship it. I packed it up and my father labeled it and took it to the post office. Unfortunately, he put the wrong address on the package. Luckily, it was the address of a very sweet older Russian couple who live a mile from me and who looked up my phone number when they got the package. Once in a while I am very glad to have an unusual last name.

The next committee member was a friend from my office. Having found a dress, Kat needed shoes (which Day helped us find) and a purse. I saw a cheap purse at Target's but I hesitated. When I mentioned that I was going to have to go back out to Target to get the purse, my co-worker mentioned that she was going out to Target the next day anyways and that she could pick up the purse.

Kat did not have a committee to pay for tickets. Kat was on her own with the tickets. I funded the dress, the purse, the alterations (which I could have done but I was too lazy to do), and the sandals so it did not seem unreasonable for her to purchase her ticket. She bought that ticket and her post-prom ticket. She held on to the prom ticket but promptly lost the post-prom ticket. Apparently, she could have used committee help but she was fine because the school kept a list of the students who had paid for post-prom tickets. They had a list so that parents could check up on whether their students actually went to post-prom as they were supposed to do. (The kids may think post-prom is fun but it actually is intended as a safety measure: no drugs, no alcohol, no driving around, and no sex is the hope.)

Yesterday, though, was the get-Kat-ready-committee. Mr. Philately did his part by staying out of the way�except for taking a picture I definitely was not dressed for (and would have avoided had I known it was coming as I was having a bad hair and bad outfit day.)

Day did some French-braiding of Kat's hair and I curled it. To my frustration, my curling iron had disappeared and I had to go get a new one but I did so and Kat eventually looked lovely.

Then we loaded her into the car (after I loaned her my raincoat which worked because, after all, three-quarter length sleeves are in this year.) We both had to go because we had to see them dressed up and because they were not escaping pictures. Mr. Philately tortured Kat first, of course.

It rained on the way to P's but it had stopped just before we got there so we could take pictures outside. Kat, being Kat, heckled her father much of the time but he kept on snapping pictures. The man is not intimidated by the likes of Kat.

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The picture taking was not over, however, because prom picture taking is not over until the parents SAY it is over. Mr. Philately was not ready to stop yet. There was a lovely staircase inside P's house and it was just made for pictures.

But even Mr. Philately eventually reached his limit:

And those are the prom pictures.

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