I have a friend. Let's call her Doris. We have these “old lady” names for each other. I can never remember if I am supposed to be Gladys or Doris. If your name actually is Gladys or Doris, my apologies (and sympathy) for calling them old lady names. Doris is the true definition of a BFF, because we have been friends for about 24 years, and even though we sometimes go two or three years without even talking, when we do talk, it is as though we just talked yesterday. If we were a sitcom, we would be “I Love Lucy,” and as much as I hate being the sidekick, I would have to be Ethel, because honestly, Doris is Lucy. And, like Lucy, Doris is a woman who knows what she wants, and is not afraid to go after it. I have always admired that.
We have traveled together to some pretty cool places. Once we flew to Boca Raton, Florida. We were staying at the Boca Raton Resort, which was pretty upscale for us home girls. I am not going to lie and say it was one of my favorite vacations, because I stopped nursing one of my babies in order to go on the five-day trip, and the combination of hormones gone awry, and missing my one-year-old was enough to make me uncharacteristically weepy. To make matters worse, everyone’s luggage arrived at the hotel in a timely manner...except for mine. (Cue the tears again) So Doris put her arm around me and said, “Don't you worry. They will be giving us all free bathrobes before I am done.” I did not actually get a free bathrobe (other than the use of the complimentary one in each room...which came in handy since I had no clothes...) but it was not because Doris didn't try. You should seriously hear her go toe to toe with hotel staff. It is a memorable experience.
All of our meals on that trip were included in the price of our stay. We had only to make reservations at one of the 14 restaurants on the resort. Lucy... *ahem*... DORIS, always gravitated toward the buffets... and brought her biggest purse, if you know what I mean. One morning we had reservations at a breakfast buffet, and after filling our plates, we were loading up on beverages. I was drinking orange juice, and Doris was determinedly leaning over velvet rope barriers to help herself to a clearly-off-limits drink spigot (she was probably after soda of some sort), but with no results...nothing would come out of the spout. Finally she summoned a waiter, indicated the offending beverage dispenser, and complained that it wasn't working. His reply has been my favorite line for these many years: “I’m sorry, ma’am. The thing is, we usually don't have much call for beer at breakfast.” I think the only tears I cried that day were from laughing so much.
So today for my 50th post, here's to friends old and new, tried and true...the Doris’ and the Gardenweasels in my life. Here's to blog friends, going after what you want, free bathrobes, and beer for breakfast.
Disclaimer: Being the good Mormon girls that we are, neither Doris nor I (Gladys) actually drink beer, either for breakfast or at any other time. That is the secret to our youthful beauty. If you want to know more about our beliefs, check out Mormon.org.