Now…What was I Doing?

I watched an old Ellen DeGeneres comedy clip about procrastination. About how she sat down to write on her computer and, before she even started, noticed how dusty her desk was.  So she went downstairs to get a cleaning rag, but stopped to pet the cat.  Which took forever, of course, because cats have a tendency to act all cute when you give them some attention. And then she noticed how disorganized her CD collection was, so…

…well, you know how the rest goes.

I laughed, of course, because I recognized certain behaviors I had in common.  Most of us do – right?

Except that I also thought, but I’m not that bad.

And then I went into the kitchen to make myself a salad for lunch.

But first I had to clean up the dishes from breakfast because, God knows, you can’t make a mess when there’s already a mess in there. 

After that, I had to make a pit stop because, well, running water does that to me.  And I noticed the sheets were off the bed, which reminded me they were in the washing machine.  So after I went to the bathroom, I walked over to the washer and dryer.  The clothes in the dryer were dry, so I hauled the load out and put them on the bed to fold and put away. 

But then I remembered I was making a salad for lunch, so I went back to the kitchen and washed the lettuce leaves and tore them up for my salad.

Realizing I had left the door to the dryer open – and the wet sheets were still sitting in the washing machine not getting any drier – I went back to the washing machine and moved the load to the dryer and started it.

Finally, I got back to the kitchen to work on my salad.  I cut up vegetables and threw in some dried cranberries and slivered almonds, but decided the salad needed a few garbanzo beans.  So I went to the pantry to get some.  While in there, I noticed how disorganized it was after our last shopping trip, so I started turning cans face front and grouping like items and…

…and then it hit me.  Egad – I AM that bad a procrastinator!

It took me an entire hour to make a salad that would normally take about 5-10 minutes, tops!

Vince says this is ADD behavior.  He says he’s just as bad.  He gets on the computer to do one thing and then, forty-five minutes later, he can’t remember why he sat down in front of the computer in the first place.  Because it couldn’t possibly have been to watch all those old Tim Conway clips from The Carol Burnett Show.

So now I’m wondering if I‘m a procrastinator or if I simply have a touch of ADD.

…aaaand I just spent 20 minutes online looking up the differences between the two.  Ack!  Plus, my research didn’t really answer the question as it was mostly amateurs giving their opinions on the subject.

I have a theory that with the proliferation of information at our fingertips, we all tend to get more distracted these days. Used to be if you wondered about something, you either had to look it up in the dictionary or encyclopedia (if your family was lucky enough to own a set), or you had to take a trip to the local library to find out.  So it had to be a subject you were really interested in learning about.

Now, we just hit up Google over any little musing and then, before we even type in our query, we’re distracted by something else.

Right now, I have about five projects partly completed and awaiting my attention. And those are just the projects staring me in the face.  I have lots of other ideas of projects I want to accomplish.  Some of them may just take months and/or years to come to fruition.

Fortunately for me, I will eventually focus and get them all done.

Like this blog, for instance.  Just because it has taken me four hours to write (well, maybe forty minutes to write and three hours and twenty minutes of procrastination as my attention was diverted by other things), but I will finish it.

But it isn’t without some level of stress as I wonder why I can’t just start one project, finish it and then move on to the next one.

I guess it all just makes me human. And I’m in decent company.  After all, Ellen DeGeneres has managed to do pretty well for herself. 

So I…oh look!  There’s Twinks.  She’s looking all cute curled up on the chair next to me, so I need to pet her furry little bell…

Oh, never mind.  Go ahead and call me a procrastinator. Tell me I have ADD. I can take it.

(But I DID finish this blog. So there!)

The Old Dining Room Table

Just last night we had delivered to our home an old, slightly battered dining room table.  It arrived from its former residence in Wareham, Massachusetts.

It was a drop-leaf dining room table that my grandparents had made back in 1952 when they built their summer cottage on Cape Cod. 

At first, I imagine my grandparents only had to lift one leaf to make room for themselves and their two daughters. And then when my mother and her sister both married, the table had to be enlarged to include their husbands.

Eventually, my parents had four children and my aunt and uncle had five children.  Neither the table nor the cottage, for that matter, could handle that large a group, so each family started visiting my grandparents separately. 

My family had the last two weeks in August for our annual vacation to the Cape.  There we played in the ocean every day and each evening we moved that table, lifted the leaves on either side, and opened it up for my grandparents, parents, and the four of us children to fit around and eat our evening meal together.

There were countless family lobster-fests held at that dining room table with the table completely covered with lobsters and bowls of butter and platters filled with ears of corn on the cob.

And even if we got lost in the magic that is summer at the beach, we would always know it was Saturday because – without fail – we would be called to the table for dinner and there would be hot dogs, baked beans and coleslaw awaiting us. Well, the hot dogs were one clue; the other was that we had to attend the 6:30 Saturday evening Mass.  And that was without fail, too.

In the mornings, we weren’t quite as formal and usually ate breakfast in shifts, so both leaves of the table remained down.  Some of us would eat our toast or bowl of cereal out on the porch anxiously awaiting the moment when we were allowed to grab out towels and head to the beach.

I remember many years sitting at that table writing out postcards to friends. For years we’d watch Nanna writing out her grocery list while sitting at the table and then, years later after Nanna was no longer with us, we’d watch Mom handling the same chore.

And I can remember many evenings sitting around the table playing cards and board games with my sister and brothers. 

One year, when I was in college, I remember watching my grandmother, aunt and mother sitting around the table after dinner one night drinking Southern Comfort and getting a little silly and even, I dare say, a little tipsy. But later, whenever I’d mention the tipsy part to my mother, she’d get defensive and offended that I’d even make such an accusation.  But, c’mon.  I was in college by then.  I knew tipsy when I saw it.  Yet it’s a memory that makes me smile even today.

I imagine when the table was new, it was shiny and clean and unmarked.  And despite all attempts at protecting it with tablecloths and place mats, the decades have taken their toll on that old table and it is a little marred and a little less shiny now.

So when the time came to sell the cottage this summer, my elderly parents didn’t want the hassle of getting rid of the furniture, so they opted to sell the place “as is.”  My brother and I went up there in July to clean the cottage and clear out my parents’ personal belongings, but were leaving the furniture. 

When we met with the realtor, I told her that the one piece of furniture I’d like to have was that dining room table.  Knowing, of course, that it would never fit in my little red Audi, I wondered how I would get it to Ohio.

My brother thought he might return to the cottage for one last weekend with his wife and some friends later in the summer, and I knew that table would fit easily in his truck.  And it would have, but when it came to making the decision to revisit the cottage one last time, he decided that he’d already said his last goodbyes to the place, and he changed his mind.  So I thought I had lost my chance.

I was tempted to just let it go – much as we had let go of the cottage itself – but Vince convinced me that it was worth a couple hundred dollars to have the table shipped to us. 

And so, with the help of the realtor, we did just that. 

True, it’s not a valuable heirloom. It wouldn’t fetch thousands of dollars on that Antiques Roadshow program. And it would never be featured in a House Beautiful publication.

But that old, slightly battered dining room table is – to me – priceless.  I’ve walked by it a half a dozen times today and each time I do, I smile just looking at it.

I also smile knowing that I’m married to a caring husband who recognized the value of that scarred old table.  And I know that new memories will be made around that table. 

Even if it isn’t sitting in our dining room.  

And even if  we don’t eat hot dogs and baked beans and cole slaw every Saturday night.

Something Good Comes from Something Evil

I was in Alliance last weekend visiting my parents and two of my three siblings and their spouses. It was nice to all be together, although we missed my sister and her family.  And Vince wasn't able to join us either since he was working.

But it’s sort of a good thing that there weren’t four additional people crammed into my parents’ family room.  Our collective body heat would have sent the temperature inside the house soaring to near triple digits. 

I know I recently wrote a blog complaining about the heat at my parents' house, but I’m telling you, my mother has the thermostat set so high I’m fearful one day one of us might spontaneously combust.

And with my luck, it would probably be me.

Fortunately, my brother Andrew and I decided to get away from the inferno by taking a little trip to the Carnation mall.  It’s not like we were trying to relive our youth by hanging out at the mall hoping to see some of our high school friends; we actually had a purpose for going there.  Besides, that mall wasn’t even around in our youth.

No, what we were doing was attending an event my good friend Diana created in honor of her late dog, Sampson.  It was the inaugural debut of the Sampson’s Salvation Adopt-a-thon. 

Sampson was an 11-year-old border collie/chow mix and a cherished member of Diana’s family, but when he wandered off their property a couple years ago, he was senselessly shot, killed and then buried by someone living nearby.  It was a horrific act that sent Diana and her husband and daughter into a tailspin. This individual was tried and fined and sentenced to jail for 30 days, which is a mere slap on the wrist for something so heinous.  But at least he didn’t get away with it without any repercussions whatsoever. 

Since that time, Diana has spent many hours volunteering at shelters, walking dogs and advocating for the rights of animals.  And Sampson’s Salvation Adopt-a-thon was her first effort at helping various shelters raise money and awareness of their adoption and foster programs – all in memory of her beloved pet.

So my brother and I first stopped at a pet store and picked up a gargantuan bag of dog food to donate to one of the shelters.  Fortunately, Andrew was there to haul the bag around as I probably would’ve needed surgery to repair my broken shoulder after trying to lift the bag.  Those suckers are heavy!

This worked in Andrew’s favor, however, as he is the one who brought it to the donation table and then filled out his name and address as an entry for one of the door prizes (even though we split the cost of the bag of dog food).

But I suppose if you do the heavy lifting, you should be the one to reap the benefits.  (This is me trying to be all adult-like and mature - right?)

Diana’s husband, daughter and siblings were all there in support of her event as were a couple high school friends – so it was fun to talk and catch up and take some photos.

There were tables set up and manned by various local rescue and shelter organizations and lots of gift baskets that were being raffled off with the donations to benefit the shelters. 

And there were dogs and cats on-site hoping to be adopted into good homes. 

It was a fantastic effort and I was even more impressed when I learned that Diana put together this entire event in only three short weeks. 

When it was over, all of the animals on-site had completed adoption applications and I am hopeful that they have all since gone to live in happy homes.

And that’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?  Animals have an incredible capacity to love their humans – even if some humans don’t deserve such love. 

But for the majority of us (I’m thinking positively here), we cherish our pets – so much so that they truly become part of our families. 

I have never understood how someone could adopt a pet – and then leave them out in the cold or give them up or not take care of them properly.  Because those animals almost certainly love their humans unconditionally.

It’s so easy to love a pet.  Sure, there are messes sometimes.  Take our cat Twinklebelle, for instance. She regularly yaks up hairballs that require heavy-duty cleaning, particularly when she decides the white carpet in the living room is the perfect place for her hairball donation.  And she tends to take flying leaps off our laps whenever she gets startled, which can leave vicious claw-marks on our legs. 

And I can't imagine there is anyone out there who really likes cleaning the litter box.  Or who loves following their dog around with a pooper scooper. 

But our Twinks is the most lovable kitty, and purrs like a race car when you give her even a tiny bit of attention. 

And, in my book, that makes every hairball clean-up worth it.  Besides, I never did like that white carpet all that much anyway.

So I just wanted to give a Jane’s Domain “shout-out” (do people even say that anymore?!) to Diana for her successful event – and cheer her on for next year’s Second Annual Sampson’s Salvation Adopt-a-thon. I’ve already promised to give her a hand – and I know she’ll take me up on it.  When it comes to our furry friends, they have no greater champion than Diana.

Go Di!!

Oh, and PS, my brother ended up winning the prize for the dog food donation. But, I, too, was lucky and I won the Ohio State Gift Basket.  I'd say that's a win-win all around - for our furry friends and for us!

Life has Been Busy in Jane's Domain

Life has been hectic in recent weeks and I’ve spent very little time in front of the computer. 

Well, okay, that’s not exactly true.  I have spent time on the computer handling things like bill paying and junk e-mail deleting. 

But by the time I’ve balanced our accounts, deleted my way through my inbox and spent a moment or two perusing Facebook, I’m tired of sitting in front of the computer and I move on to something else. 

Needless to say, I’ve been lagging on the blog-writing lately.  I’ve thought about it, sure, but have I done it?  Noooo.

So I’m tryin to dash off a quick blog today – just to get back in the habit, you know.

My alternative is to clear cat hair off the second floor stairs landing where Jinx has taken up residence lately.  Or I could continue trying to clean up the coffee stain on the carpet where I knocked over an entire cup of coffee yesterday morning.

But just thinking about handling those chores makes me weary. 

First of all, I suspect I could build another cat with all the fur that is on the carpet because it’s normally white.  The carpet, that is.  Jinx-the-cat is mostly black.  And now the carpet is more greyish/blackish than it is white.  That, my friends, is a LOT of cat hair.

And I’ve already spent a lot of time on my knees in front of that big, ugly coffee stain.  Scrubbing, mostly, but I may have even thrown in a prayer or two while I was at it.  But I’m not sure anyone is listening as there is still a big Hazelnut coffee stain on the carpet that is simply not coming out.  And we just had the carpets professionally cleaned a little while ago.  Guess it’s time to move the loveseat a little to the left, eh?! 

Either that, or I’ll just have to blog on.

So, let’s see. What can I tell you about?  Hmmm.

Well, in recent weeks Vince and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary and I celebrated turning yet another year older.

And we just returned from our one and only vacation this year in Carolina Beach, North Carolina.  We had a great time visiting friends and spending time with Vince’s son, who is stationed at Camp LeJeune.

No sooner did we return from that trip then I hopped back in the car for a little five hour jaunt to get my parents’ signatures on some official documents that needed to be notarized. So we spent some time in a local bank in Alliance, Ohio. 

I’m telling you, I wasn’t sure I could stand all the excitement.

But I was able to help out my parents – and we recently had the closing on the little cottage in Parkwood Beach.  Yes, we sold it.  And, yes, it sometimes still makes me a little sad.  But, on the whole, I’ve come to terms with letting the family cottage go.  I mean, we just knew that we wouldn’t make use of it like my grandparents did or my parents did.  So it was time.

And the new owner is thrilled to have the place.  Our realtor said he’s already taken up the carpeting and is waxing poetic about the hardwood floors underneath. 

During the past month I spent quite a bit of time pulling all the family photos, slides and negatives that we had taken through the years of our vacations at the cottage and put together a big Shutterfly book.  My parents and siblings and I all got copies of it so that when we get nostalgic or want to relieve old memories, we’ll have something to remember the place by.

So that’s what I’ve spent my time doing in recent weeks.  Well, that – plus the mountain of dirty laundry I’ve done and the mountain of dishes I’ve cleaned and the mountain of cat hair…

…Oops.  I guess I haven’t quite finished that last mountainous chore.

Guess I’d better go scrape up some black kitty fur.  Clearly, that chore is not going to handle itself.

Meanwhile, I hope you’ve all had a happy summer.  And are looking forward to a happier fall. 

I’ll write again soon.  (Hopefully!)

Maybe the Wicked Witch was Just Hot

Last night Vince and I watched the weather report on the news and he was surprised to learn that it was in the low 60s. They called it “cuddle weather” and “blanket weather.” 

I just called it “relief.”

You see, I’ve spent much of the last week being hot.  I don’t like being hot.  I’d rather be cold and put more layers on than to be hot, sweaty and sticky.

So you can imagine how much I loved it last weekend when we rather impulsively agreed to meet our friends and their three little boys at the Columbus Zoo.

In hindsight, we definitely should have checked the weather report first.

While it was a beautiful, sunny day, the outside temperatures were approaching 90 degrees with the humidity level hovering somewhere around nine thousand percent.  And if the percentage of humidity can be any higher than that, let’s go with that number.  It was H-O-T, hot. And, even worse, it was horribly humid.

And I – much like the Wicked Witch of the West – was melting.

You think I’m exaggerating?  (She asks after saying the humidity level was 9000%.)

I had applied my makeup that morning as I normally do before heading out in public lest I scare the little children, and by the time we’d gotten to the entrance of the zoo, it had all slid off my face and landed in a big puddle on the ground at my feet.  Yeah, that was attractive.

Fortunately, my hair was pulled back off my face and neck, so that helped some, but I spent most of the day wiping sweat off my forehead to keep it from dripping into my eyes and yearning for central air conditioning. 

Watching three little boys having fun at the zoo helped a lot – as did the ice cold drinks their dad kept handing us.  Of course, the ice in those drinks melted within moments, but it was a relief while it lasted.

Even the boys had issues with the heat. They all wore adorable “Columbus Zoo” hats to shield them from the sun, but whenever we stopped to watch a show or see an exhibit that was out of the sun, they immediately took off their hats.  And the hair on their little heads was all wet with sweat.

Their mom and I took turns blowing on their heads to cool them off.  I had hoped they would think it was a fun game and do the same for us, but no such luck. Hey, by that point, anything cool would’ve been a relief.

After the zoo, we all had tentatively planned to hang out together and have a little cookout, but we were all so bedraggled, we decided it would be better to go our separate ways and peel off our soggy clothes and take showers just to feel human again.

Besides, none of us wanted to cook.  Vince and I ended up ordering a pizza while our friends stopped somewhere on the way home and picked up dinner.

So while it was fun hanging out with our friends and a joy to watch those little faces light up with the wonders of the animal kingdom, I will have to remember that 9000% humidity is just a tad too uncomfortable and from now on we should probably seek indoor entertainment.

Speaking of being a tad uncomfortable, the next day I decided to drive to my elderly parents’ home in northeast Ohio. I had some paperwork they needed to sign and they are not equipped with newfangled gadgets like computers that could eliminate the need for five hour round trip road trips.

On the other hand, I am happy to spend a little time with my parents whenever I have the chance, so I was glad to make the drive.

What I wasn’t so glad about was the fact that my mom is always cold. And my mom rules the roost.  So if Mom is cold, the heat in the house must be on even if the temperature outside is in the upper 80s.

I couldn’t tell for sure, but I think perhaps we could have cracked an egg on the family room table and it would’ve been sizzling within minutes.

Fortunately, I know that mom is always cold and that the heat would most likely be on, so I planned ahead.  I brought with me a paper fan that I had picked up at the Ohio State fair a few weeks ago.

Smart, eh?

Within moments of my arrival, I hauled that paper fan out of my purse and started fanning myself like the most zealous church lady in Alabama in August.

And it helped.  A little.

Dad, who is usually on the chilly side himself, was wearing shorts and a thin polo shirt and actually looked a little warm. 

Finally, he picked up the inside/outside temperature gauge that was sitting on the table next to him and looked at it. Then he looked at me.  And then he asked my mom if it was okay if he turned on the air conditioning.  When my mother protested and asked him why, he said it was 81 degrees in the house!

Once I heard that, my hot flashes started anew.

Mom, on the other hand, was perfectly comfortable in her long sleeve shirt and cardigan with a blanket covering her knees.

Egad.  I know my thermostat these days is broken, but Mom’s must be set on permafrost.  Does the woman not have any warm blood running through her veins?

I suspected that if we had taken my mother to the zoo the day before, she would have said it was a “little chilly” out.

By the time I left their house to drive back to Columbus I was, once again, a soggy, sodden mess. I turned every vent in the car so that it was facing me and I blasted that cold air all the way home.

And then I felt a little better.

So while I am not a big fan of winter’s cold and snow and ice, I am very much looking forward to the changing season when there is a bit of a chill in the air and I can add a layer for warmth if necessary.

You know, I used to think the Wicked Witch of the West was just mean and nasty, but now I’m beginning to wonder if the lady was just plain hot. 

Plus, no one…I mean no one…wants to see green makeup sliding off her face and landing on the ground in a big puddle at her feet.

“Girls’ Day Out.” Best. Therapy. Ever. Part 2.

Yesterday I was talking about a fun afternoon I had with my friend “S” on a spur-of-the-moment Girls’ Day Out.  We met at the mall during the middle of the day, had a couple beers, did the classic mani-pedi thing, had lunch and then finished the afternoon with a little retail therapy.  It was one of the best impromptu get-togethers I’ve had in a long while – and it was much-needed.

So what’s better than one Girls’ Day Out?  Well, naturally, that’d be a second Girls’ Day Out.  Thus, I segue into:

Girls’ Day Out, #2.

My other friend, uh…"S"… Uh oh, I now see the flaw in my First Initial Anonymity Plan.  Different first name, but it begins with the same letter.

Uh oh. I guess "Q" has completely lost her anonymity.
Clearly, I'm not good at this subterfuge stuff!

Okay, I’m nothing if not flexible.  Let’s call her “Q.”

So, “Q” and I decided to get together last week and head to the Ohio State Fair.  It’s something we’ve done from time to time through the many decades we’ve been friends. And I do mean decades – “Q” and I have been fast friends since our first day of college at Ohio State when we were 18 years old. And that friendship has only grown stronger as the years go by.

We used to take her two daughters to the fair when they were kids. Now they are adults with children of their own - so Grandma and I had to show them that we are not feeble old ladies and could make it from one end of the fair to the other.

Except, um...we didn't quite succeed. The first thing we did when we got there was to grab a map – and then head to the sky glide to ferry us to the far end of the fair.

Sue…oops, I mean, “Q” wanted to visit the Bunnies and they were at the other end of the complex.  And, sure, the bunnies were cute and all, but I was more captivated with the sky glide. I’d never been on it looking down at the fairgoers and booths selling all manner of crazy foods.  I mean, the idea of that whole donut burger thing still makes me a little queasy just thinking about it.  

But I had never seen the fair from that perspective and I was enthralled.

Anyway, we wandered around various buildings and exhibits for a while.  And we bought a couple small souvenirs. 

And then the Ingesting of the Fair Food commenced. 

It took me a long time to realize that you can’t get Fair Food just any old time – and I had never really taken advantage of Fair Food before.  But “Q” initiated me.  She is the Queen of the Fair and has even gone there on her own from time to time. So she had already staked out the best booths to visit.  

And this time I knew the drill. First we stopped at the tent where they made all sorts of sandwiches and we ate something sensible and rather filling.

Then we stopped for cold drinks. I have had the Lemon Shake-ups before and absolutely love them, but they are a bit too sweet for me.  I don’t know – is an entire cup of sugar per glass too much?! 

This year, I discovered that they had a sugar-free version so I ordered one.  And let me just say: “Yum-my!”  Plus, it actually quenched my thirst; something the sugar-filled versions don’t do.

Next, “Q” had to stop at the Fair Fries booth, so we shared some fries as well as the Lemon Shake-up.

We walked around some more letting that sandwich-Lemon Shake-up-French Fries combo mix in our stomachs.  (Not so “yum-my” – but at least we didn’t add anything like deep-fried Twinkies to the mix.)

At “Q’s” insistence, we visited the Bee Tent. Normally, bees are something I avoid at all costs as I’m not crazy about bee stings, but “Q” wanted to see if they had any honey for sale. This was probably my least favorite part of Girls' Day Out because there were a lot of bees loose in that tent, but... what'reyagonna do? It's all in the name of friendship, right? 

Yeah, whatever. All I can say is "Q" had better not give me any grief the next time I ask her to help me dig in the dirt. Last time I tried there was a little snake in the garden and I promptly put down my trowel. And that was the end of the dirt-digging for me.  I don't do well with bugs, insects, or anything that slithers. 

But I digress.

Oh, and, by the way, is three pounds of honey too much for a family of two?  Yeah, I thought so.

We walked away from the bee tent without a single sting (whew!) and without a single behemoth jar of honey and headed toward the exit.  But before we left the building, er, fair, we had one last stop to make.  And that was the Funnel Cake booth.  After all, we had to have something sweet, didn’t we? And you can’t get a funnel cake just anywhere, can you?

Do me a favor and just nod your head “yes.” Otherwise, I’ll keep talkin’ to try to convince you.

At any rate, we shared part of a funnel cake and then had the rest wrapped up for leftovers. 

And we exited the fair tired, hot, full and happy. And it was the end of another fun “Girls’ Day Out.”

If I haven't convinced you about the benefits of getting together with your friends for some much-needed "Girls' Day Out," activities, I'm guessin' that at the very least I've made you hungry.  

“Girls’ Day Out.” Best. Therapy. Ever. Part 1.

In recent weeks I’ve had a couple “Girls’ Night Out” get-togethers with good friends.  Except that, technically, they were “Girls’ Day Outs” since we’re not as young as we used to be – and nobody wants to see a couple mid-50-somethings prowling the streets after dark.

It’d be way past our bedtime by the time the nightlife got started anyway, so it was a good thing we stuck to mid-afternoon for our fun. Indeed, no one wants to see a mid-50-something nodding off over her glass of wine in the middle of a conversation.

And in defense of my other friend, she’s nowhere near 50, but she has three little kids and it’d be a lot tougher to arrange an evening out unless it included her husband and children. And even then, it’d be an early evening due to the kids’ bedtime. So, same issue.

Nonetheless, we made the most of our afternoons. 

By the way, I aimed for brevity – but failed miserably – so I will split this blog into two parts.

(You’re welcome.)

Girls’ Day Out, #1.

In the first get-together, my younger friend and I – let’s call her “S” – did the classic mani-pedi thing.  (I’m calling her “S” because I don’t know if she wants her name disseminated all over the Blogosphere. And it’s definitely a name you’d remember.)

Anyway, “S” and I met at a restaurant in the mall. We planned to have lunch and then hit the salon for a pedicure.  Only she’d had a stressful morning involving the dentist, which requires no further explanation, and she wanted to have a beer before we started.

It was the most fun noontime beer I ever had!

We talked and drank beer and thoroughly enjoyed our girl time, laughing over silly things.  What made it even funnier is that “S” was valiantly trying not to drool as she’d had enough Novocaine to numb a horse and she couldn’t feel her face. 

So once I finished giggling and pointing at her…

Nah, I kid.  Fortunately, I’m not the kind of person to make fun of a drooling friend, so she soon got over her concerns.  Or maybe it was just the beer.

I dunno.  Either way, we talked about everything from our past to our future as well as her children’s futures. We covered a lot of decades and tried to solve all the world’s problems.  Not a bad effort, either, I’d venture to say as we totally believed we fixed some stuff. 

Or maybe it was just the beer.

Eventually, we headed to the salon and had our tootsies buffed and polished and then threw caution to the wind and decided to have our fingernails done, too.  We picked out cheery, summery colors that perked up our spirits and brightened our day even further.

Or maybe it was just the beer.

 

Later, when I looked at my fingernails in the sun, I thought the color rather resembled the color of those Day-Glo Orange Safety barrels, but I embraced the bold and kept the color for almost two weeks.

We then went back to the same restaurant and had lunch, this time sans beer.  We talked some more and admired our snazzy nails before hitting a couple stores at the mall and doing a little retail therapy to round out our afternoon.

It’s not like we really needed the retail therapy because our talking pretty much took care of any issues that crowded our thoughts – but, c’mon – we were at the mall. How could we not do a little shopping?

It was one of the best times I’ve had with “S.” Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I don’t enjoy the times we get together with our husbands and her children. But there is something to be said for one-on-one time where you can really talk without interruption. Because, let’s face it, chicks can talk.  And, boy, did we ever! Hey, don’t knock it – it’s how we bond.

I drove home in a great mood and happy that “S” called me on the spur of the moment to get together.  And we vowed to schedule another Girls’ Day Out soon.  

I’m looking forward to it.  Hmmm…wonder when her next dentist appointment is scheduled?