The La-La Sisterhood

I spent last weekend in Ft. Lauderdale with friends I’ve known since the early 1980s. We have a ton of memories from our teenage and college years. Now Cathy, Julie, and I are making memories from an adventure known as middle age.

Girl-bonding during a three-day marathon of enjoyable conversation is good for the soul.

Eggplant Parmesan-pizza for breakfast, mimosas all day and wine all night, not to mention bean dip for lunch and dinner, might be a less than healthy day-to-day habit. But, every once in a while, we need this type of gathering, especially when it’s combined with daytime naps, laughter, and a few episodes of reality-based television.

Yes, we miss the men and children in our lives. They nourish us in different ways and we cannot go more than a few days without them.

However, for those few days without them…

Friday 5pm
Pull up to Cathy’s work and honk the horn. I’ve got a GPS, Frank Zappa CD, two phones, and a video camera. Cathy’s got cigarettes and mood stabilizers. We’re ready for Ft. Lauderdale.

5:23pm
Cathy sums up our trip perfectly, “Katie and I are taking a road trip to Ft Lauderdale and pretending we’re 22 again. Only instead of packing beer, spandex, leather and Aqua Net, we’re now packing Celebrex, Correctol, sweatpants and laptops.”

9:20pm
We pull into Julie’s house and squeeze each other with glee.

“How was the trip?” Julie asks.

“A GPS and Katie still gets lost,” Cathy says. “Thank God for mood stabilizers.”

2:30am
After two bottles of wine and a rehashing of every argument we’ve had since Reagan was in office, including renewed teary-eyed vows of love and forgiveness, we finally crawl into bed.

Cathy almost falls down the stairs, Julie puts in her bite plate, and I keep one foot on the floor because it stops the room from spinning.

We are still hot.

Saturday 8:32am
Julie and I go power-walking. Cathy promises that the next person who mentions exercise will lose a limb.

9:41am
Julie’s Saturday routine includes bringing Gatorade and water to her garbage-collectors. They honk and wave. I make a mental note to try that approach back home since cursing and yelling certainly doesn’t move 19 bags of recyclables.

12:48pm
I catch a moment of Keeping up with the Kardashians. Compelling and nauseating at the same time; I cannot look away. Julie and Cathy almost lose me for the rest of the weekend.

1:10pm
I forgot wrinkle cream and attempt five-minute headstand/anti-aging yoga pose. Julie and Cathy bust open some champagne and begin drinking mimosas. I fall over, bust open a vein, and begin six-hour headache.

2:20pm
Silence falls over the room as we realize we’re now at that age where a healthy bowel movement is more exciting than a good orgasm. Keeping up with the Kardashians suddenly depressing.

4:40pm
Naptime. I’m heard mumbling in my sleep, “Kourtney’s boyfriend…what an asshole.”

6:09pm
Who needs reality television when Julie and her dogs are around?

9:20pm
Three champagne bottles later and we all give thanks for unlimited call and texting plans. Not to mention polite ex-boyfriends. Move on to vodka and Crystal Light drinks. Ignore white trash jokes from neighbors who would like to get some sleep.

Sunday 8:20am
Audible digestion and gas pains, brought on by too much vodka, eggplant, and bean dip.

We are still hot.

11:45am
Decide we are done drinking. Forever.

11:47am
Oh to hell with it. That screwdriver looks delish.

Noon
Hangover is gone. Who’s up for a Kardashian marathon?

2pm
Cathy and I get into the car and fire up the GPS. Julie starts crying until she realizes she no longer has to share a bathroom with me.

Cathy looks worried.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Cathy gets out her cigarettes and bites her lip.

“I’m all out of mood stabilizers.”