I Ate At Lynne's And All I Got Was This Crappy Gallbladder
Heh...okay, inside joke. Last time Greg and I ate at my friend Lynne's house, he ended up in an ambulance at 1:00 am and subsequently had his gall bladder removed. Though the two incidents are truly mutally exclusive, teasing Lynne about her cooking never gets old. Well, never gets old to me. And for the record, she and her husband are excellent cooks.So I went there last night with our friend Andrea, who is due with her third girl one month before me. We ate take-out pizza (which explains why neither Andrea nor I went into labor - Ha! OK, I'll stop now) and abandoned counting WW points and just got caught up with our lives. Lynne's a newlywed, Andrea's got her hands full with her girls, things here are hectic, and we don't usually get together enough to keep caught up. The nights are too short, particularly when two of us are pregnant.
But...there is really something magical about hanging out with women who not all that long ago were just your best friends from college, who saw you at your best and your worst. From sharing beds on spring break to sharing clothes to not sharing shampoo while sharing an apartment. Through wanting boyfriends, cheating on boyfriends, stealing each others boyfriends. And now, participating in each others weddings and family funerals and child rearing.
Well, anyhow. That's enough of that.
