Last night, Wendy-and-Summer, Debbie, and I met up with BARB at Villa Reale for her BIRTHDAY. Don’t worry, though–I didn’t go too far out of my way. I can walk there from work in like 3 minutes now that I accidentally know my way around town. (It’s right down the street from the library that I just discovered a few weeks ago!)
Wendy was late because she has a baby now so we just sat around and talked about her for a while and it was really therapeutic for all of us, I think.
(Seriously, though, Wendy’s baby is the sweetest and I almost want another but then Henry reminds me that I’m only capable of loving one person at a time, and I’m not sure how Chooch would feel when he suddenly wasn’t that person anymore.)
Anyway, then Wendy and Summer arrived and everyone decided to get pizza except for me, because I’m the difficult one, so I got spaghetti while they all scratched their heads and started scribbling out pie charts to determine how they were going to split up their pizzas while I just sat over there with my own personal meal and a fork.
I don’t like sharing!
Barb talked about how one of her dreams was to be an over-the-road truck driver, and I think it was Debbie who said she would be scared to sleep in the truck though because what if a serial killer came after her but I reasoned that sleeping in the cab would probably be safe because serial killers aren’t going to mess with truck drivers since they could possibly be brethren, unless you’re some Aileen Wuornos-wannabe. DISCUSS.
God, I missed having these pointless conversations at work. Because now that I sit near Todd, Glenn, and Amber hadababy, our conversations are Mensa-quality; we discuss the Pythagorean Theorem and its many proofs at least 3 times a week for no reason other than we’re fucking geniuses.
My favorite part about the Villa is that you have to go down a creepy staircase to the basement in order to reach the bathroom, which is decorated in 1980s shades of peach, and the Designing Women probably would have felt very comfortable stepping inside to powder their noses.
I always think of my friend Alyson when I’m in public restrooms. When I was pregnant and we were scoping out places to have my baby shower, I sent her a picture of the loo in the Elizabeth Fire Hall party room (also in the basement!!) and it was a really big deal at the time because that was back when I had my pink Motorola Razr and Henry was an absolute tyrant about my data usage.
I thought of her last night too, when I had to climb a step in order to board the elevated stall. I think she would have appreciated the regal privacy of it all, like literally being on a throne.
Barb’s gift from me was one of my succulent propagations. This is the first one from my nursery that I’ve given away! It’s a Black Prince, and I gave it to her unnamed, so let’s see what she decides on. The tea cup is from Wendy’s baby shower!
There was a big debate yesterday over whether or not I should get a gift bag for the succulent. Actually, the debate was basically just Glenn telling me it was bad idea and that it wasn’t going to fit, because in his monotone, monochromatic, monosyllabic world, gift bags are monosized, and that monosize only fits thimbles, I guess. So I said, “You’re wrong” and went out to CVS where not only did I buy an adequate-sized giftbag, I USED THE SELF CHECK-OUT.
Barb, I did all of these things for you! And here you thought you were only getting a stupid plant, but this gift had LAYERS: an argument with Glenn, a flagrant display of my newfound independence at a store I knew how to find on my own, memorabilia from Wendy’s shower… what else? Dirt that Henry bought, I guess. So much went into this!
In addition to placing bets on how long it will take Barb to murder this baby succulent, let’s add the phrase “pics or it didn’t happen!” to her repertoire of “Things That Were Popular to Say in 2010 But Barb’s Just Learned How To Use Them.”
Man, it was so nice to see these ladies. I mean, whatever, Wendy will be back to work in a few weeks and I’ll be over it after the second day, probably (kidding!). I miss Barb fucking up the Roll call emails and enabling my Diva mentality, and I miss Debbie’s spot-on snark sessions and her ability to fall while standing perfectly still. I’m just glad that we’re doing an OK job at keeping in touch, although Barb needs to step it up!
Barb drove me home, not narrating the drive nearly as much as I hoped she would, although she did offhandedly say, “We’re gonna take this Liberty exit here…” while trying to exit the parking garage. After she dropped me off, I was walking up to my house and a big fat gray cat was licking itself on my sidewalk! He ran off down my driveway, so I followed him.
“What are you doing?” Barb shouted from her car across the street, waiting to pull out of the parking lot.
I’M CHASING A CAT BARB, WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.
(Look, I don’t see her every day anymore, so when I do, I have to milk it for every last drop of blog fodder. I LOVE YOU BARB!)