Like Britney and Paris, Only We Have Brains and Wear Underwear
I know earlier this week I said it was the year I was going to grow cajones, but it’s also the year of the margarita.
Nicole (Margaritabelle) and I met for margaritas (OK, OK a grand total of TWO between us) at a local Mexican restaurant last night for the second time since the first of December. How awesome is it that our monthly margarita get together is mentioned as part of her New Year’s resolutions? Nicole and her husband and their adorable daughter are moving to Charleston in June so our monthly margarita outings will come to a halt, although my tequila radar senses that margarita night will live on, despite the long distance.
Once again we were the last customers to leave the restaurant. Once again we talked and talked and talked about work, kids, friends, and blogging. I think it’s pretty amazing that someone I met in “blogland” lives practically within spitting distance of me. What are the odds?
I joke about the celebrity status in my post title because the server said he remembered us “from last time” after we told him we weren’t going to order any dinner from the oversized laminated menu. Once again we chose a booth and ordered nothing but chips and salsa and that artery clogging white queso that is so good. Our hangout is a little smoky neighborhood Mexican restaurant, the kind that leaves your clothing and hair steeped in the essence of deep fried Chimichanga. The cool thing is last night I realized I have been going to this particular restaurant for more than a dozen years. I’m glad to share the familiar cheap tequila margaritas with a new friend.
I’m trying to do more “girl nights” this year. Tomorrow morning the girls and I are going to hang out with my best friend and her three boys in my hometown while the hubby does some work there. She and I have known each other since 4th grade and have survived bad perms, bad choices in boyfriends, big hair, the too much Bacardi and Coke freshman year episode in 1987 I think we’d both like to forget, and bridesmaid duties. We’re now in the “let’s do lunch” phase and the “if you ever need a casserole, call me hon” phase and the “oh my Lord, my kids are kind of driving me nuts today” phase.
True friendship transcends time and distance and really bad fashion choices, like my sophomore year of high school when I thought neon clothing was so hot but was really just plain ugly.
So have you done lunch or margaritas with a girlfriend lately?
