Can I just say that I love my sister friends? They are the best. They make me laugh. They let me cry. They understand me like few others do. They know that what happens with sister friends, stays with sister friends.
Yesterday we spent the evening together celebrating Marci's birthday. As a change of pace from our usual dinner and a movie, she suggested that we go downtown and walk the Mudgy and Millie trail. We are always up for something new, so off we went. We read the book as we went starting with the oldest reading first and then continuing in order of descending age. I won't list the order, but I will say that I was next to last. :) So, there we were, five grown women standing on Tubbs Hill reading a children's book and then taking pictures with a moose statue. And loving every minute of it. We walked the whole trail without even cheating by walking through the baseball field. As part of that, we walked around the boardwalk where I mentioned that on the southwest point of the boardwalk is where Arrty proposed to me. Ahhh. I know. Very sweet. Well, if you know Marci, you know she loves a good story, so on her suggestion, we sat down at one of the little tables and all shared our proposal stories. By the way, we pretty much did whatever Marci said because it was her night. We even took our shoes off and waded in the lake. Which was cold. And wonderful!
The trail ends at Independence Point which is one of my favorite spots downtown. But the last few times I've been there it has been overrun with teenagers. Now, I'm a little afraid of teenagers. I often joke that I didn't even like teenagers when I was a teenager. I'm trying to like them more by getting involved with the youth group at church more, because as much as I try to deny it, my children are getting closer to that stage by the day. But I couldn't help thinking things like, "Didn't your mama teach you that if you wear a belt, people won't be able to see your underwear?" And, "Aren't you too young to be holding that girl's hand?" And, "Do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth?" And, "Do you know what that tattoo is going to look like when you're 50?" I thought of my own kids and sighed. And prayed.
After our walk, we were going to dinner. Because that's what we do. We had planned to go to a little coffee/sandwich shop that was having open mike night. But when we got there we found out that they stopped serving food at 4:00. So we went to The Beacon, a pub on Sherman, that none of us had ever been to. No one told us, however, that it was a sports bar and that the basketball finals were on. It was a little loud. Okay, it was a lot loud. I thought that we should cheer for the team that everyone else was cheering against, but it turned out that both teams had a pretty good group of fans. So we just ate our food (fish and chips for me) and drank our Diet Cokes (tea for Marci). And laughed. Because that's what we do. I have to admit though, that when the Lakers tied it up in the last few seconds of the game, our table of 30 and 40 something moms, cheered just as loudly as the 20 somethings that filled the rest of the room.
After dinner, we discussed dessert. Because that's what we do, too. Gooeys, 351, Chili's, Applebee's? Someone mentioned Blizzards at DQ. Which is what we decided on. Just so you know, DQ closes at 10:00. It was 9:25 when we got there. If you get there at 9:25 and the girl behind the counter has a too tight ponytail and no smile, be prepared for grouchy to be served with your ice cream. "Can we still get Blizzards?" "Uh, I guess. I was getting ready to clean the machines." "Okay, can I get a chocolate Heath Blizzard?" "SIGH." And so it continued for the other four of us. When I ordered I was especially friendly and overly nice. You know, heaping burning coals and all that. The ice cream was good, though.
It was a great night filled with laughter and fun, just like always. And so much better than sitting in a dark theater not being able to talk. Because, talking, well, that's what we do.