Girlfriends = Happiness (The End)

Friday night I went out with three of my closest girlfriends. We are coming up on knowing each other for 30 years (not sure how that’s possible) and being with them always makes me happy.

We’re all different and at different stages of our lives.

Trixie will be celebrating her 5th wedding anniversary this year. She has two step-children in their twenties, but no children of her own by design. She lives in a fabulous designer home, has a very successful entertainment lawyer husband, and a fast-paced, interesting career working for a concert promoter. She receives “thank you” gifts from people like Halle Berry and goes to parties at places like Norman Lear’s house. As you can imagine she always has the best stories.

SkinnyBitch (so named because she has always been my skinniest friend – and I live in LA, so that’s saying something!) became an empty-nester last fall when her only child (her daughter and very best friend) went off to college in New York. She is a therapist and always gives us useful, welcome (and free) advice.

Simmah is single and has no kids. She’s never married (though she could have – she’s been asked), but she’s had a couple long-term, live-in relationships. She went through a tough break up recently and is making peace with being alone right now. She spends her free time going to the gym, hiking, playing tennis, being with friends. She might envy my family life (or she might not), but I’ll tell you, there are times when I envy her solitude. Her freedom. Her incredibly clean house. Her space.

Our group wasn’t quite complete. Trixie’s sister lives an hour away (in no traffic) – too far to come out on a Friday night. And Heidi was unable to make it due to some wifely/motherly duties at home. She’s never been as good at ditching her family as I am.

What do my very different friends have in common? You know besides their awesomeness, and good taste in suburban-mom friends? They’re all smart. They’re all beautiful. And they’re all funny as shit! My husband makes me laugh every day, but no one makes me laugh harder or louder or longer than these ladies. No one.

We had dinner at a French restaurant. Blue crab cakes and muscles with pommes frites, two bottles of wine, stories, advice, a little bit of celebrity gossip, and a whole lot of laughter made for the one of the best evenings I’ve had in a while.

I drank too much wine and slept over at Simmah’s. She completely gutted and remodeled her house a couple years ago. It’s gorgeous. I want to live there. We used to be roommates. Maybe I could leave Dave and the kids and shack up with her again. She does have a guest room.

In the morning we sleep in until about 7:30 or so – late for both of us, she’s an early riser too. She made breakfast. Eggs and chorizo with tortillas, hash browns and bacon. Oh my god, she makes the best bacon.

We talked and laughed and talked and laughed some more. One of the things we talked about is how grateful we are for our long friendship. We both realize how quickly time is passing and that time spent with girlfriends laughing and talking and even crying is not only precious, but necessary for a happy life.

I lingered until 11:00 or so before getting back to the chores and errands and family at home waiting for me.

I wish for so much for my children when they are adults. I wish them success whatever that may be for them. I wish them health. I wish them happiness. And I wish and I hope and I pray that they are as lucky as me when it comes to finding lifelong friends.

The Perfect Saturday

It’s Throwback Thursday. Another Blast from the Past previously posted on

When was the last time you spent six hours on a Saturday with one of your best friends? No husbands. No kids. Just the two of you, dressed nicely, ready to take on the day? That long huh?

On Saturday my friend Heidi (yes the one who wears granny panties) picked me up at 8:30 AM to take me to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I know – a strange concept – two suburban moms heading out to the city to do something cultured.

Heidi recently became a member of LACMA and was invited to attend a lecture on their exhibit Fashioning Fashion: European Dress in Detail, 1700-1915 and a chance to tour the exhibit half an hour before the museum openedHeidi really loves historical fashion and I really love running away from my family for the day so seeing beautiful old clothing and hearing about the torturous ways in which people used to dress themselves sounded like a win for both of us.

As we were driving to the museum Heidi told me a funny story that took place the previous day. Apparently every Friday her son’s school has a morning assembly where every class recites a poem or sings a song or something nauseatingly adorable like that. The auditorium –or wherever they hold the assembly- was very crowded with dutiful parents watching their kids and Heidi was way in the back, kind of craning her head to see.

I should tell you for the purpose of the story that Heidi’s son goes to a private school in a fancy schmancy part of our suburbs and there are some celebrities and athletes who send their children there. Heidi was standing next to a retired superstar athlete (who I will not name, but trust me, even if you never once watched the sport he played, you’ve heard of him because he is considered by most to be the greatest to ever play his sport) and Superstar’s hot dad friend. According to Heidi the hot dad –Hot Dad- looked like a younger (late 30’s), better looking Liam Neeson. (It will surprise no one that I have offered to start taking Heidi’s son to Friday assemblies!

Hot Dad offered to let Heidi stand in front of him so she could see. “That’s really nice, thank you. I just need to see 5th grade,” she said and switched places with him.

“Did you ask if you could lean against him?” I teased.

After she was standing there for a few minutes Superstar said, “Oh there’s my kid’s class.” She offered to swap places with him so he could see. They swapped and as she was standing next to him Superstar picked his nose!

“What!” I screamed. “He just jammed his finger up in there?”

“No. It was that kind of thumb and index finger thing on the side where you make it look like you’re scratching, but in the infamous words of Seinfeld, it wasn’t a scratch, it was a pick. He was digging!”

So the next time you look at your husband, or boyfriend, or whoever, and think to yourself, I could have done better, just remember that even world famous athletes with hot actress wives and hot dad friends pick their nose in public!

The rest of the day went on like that with funny stories and gossip. The lecture was interesting, watching the type of people who go to such a lecture at 9:30 on a Saturday morning was even more interesting, and the exhibit was lovely. I am thankful that net crinolines and bustles are a thing of the past and I am even more thankful that corsets have been replaced by Spanx!

LACMA corset

After walking through the exhibit we went to a popular restaurant we used to love in college, but never go to anymore because it’s too far away from our suburban bubble. It’s the kind of restaurant that has cute waiters on a Saturday afternoon and is practically empty at noon (when we got there) but has people waiting outside the door by 1:00. I had on a low cut sweater with a good bra and self-dyed my roots the previous day so I felt cute enough to flirt with the hot waiter. He knew how to work it for a good tip so he flirted back. I even had a Groupon. I’m telling you – it was a good day.


I did not get my picture taken with the hot waiter like I usually do. This will make one group of friends bitterly disappointed in me and another group of friends extremely proud of me. I don’t know if this means I’m getting old or growing up so my feelings are somewhere in between.


We got coffee afterwards – a mocha for Heidi’s sweet tooth and a regular coffee with a ton of crème and sugar for me to satisfy my need of turning a zero calorie drink into a rich, yummy 500 calorie drink. The hot cups felt good in our hands when we walked to the car as we were between rainstorms and the day was cold and crisp and breezy. It was the type of weather that reminded me of when Heidi and I lived in London for a semester in college.


I got home around 2:30 and all that culture and food and flirting (and probably the 20oz beer) made me tired so I took a nap. With my husband. He says I can flirt with hot waiters anytime.


In the late afternoon I took my kids to get a haircut. Their hairdresser moved to a new shop in a mini mall that also houses a bakery and a comic book/used record store. We visited and made purchases in both. They were in heaven.


So was I.


We even ate the leftovers from lunch for dinner so I didn’t have to cook or clean up.

It really was a perfect Saturday.



photo credit: