I got some deck time in today before the clouds rolled in, and all limbs are intact after dealing with Mr. Lounge Chair. He seems to be a little tamer now, after being beaten into submission two days in a row. Hey, torture does work! At least when it comes to lounge chairs, rather than human beings.
We also scoped out the available apartments at the complex and called Ken's Mom to get her input, then put down a deposit and got their new address! She loved the pictures we sent, and is apparently very preoccupied with trying to figure out how she wants to arrange things. Ken just got off the phone with her and she said she only got about four hours of sleep last night because she was arranging furniture in her head. Bless her heart! I told Ken that I hope she doesn't stress over this, but it does show that she's excited about the move and ready to be up here. I'm so glad we found a place that we believe they'll enjoy.
When we were looking at one of the buildings, an older lady in the facing building poked her head out the door and asked if we were looking to rent, and did we want to see her place? We explained that we had already seen the inside, and were just checking the building locations. She said something about the robin that was in her yard, that she was nesting, and as we thanked her and walked away, we could hear her talking to the robin! I was taking notes on the buildings, and I noted: "nice front yard, nice neighbor." I can totally see Ken's Mom and stepdad making friends with this nice lady!
Have everyone bring preplanned ingredients, then divide into two teams and have a cook-off.
That's actually not a bad idea, and I can see how that would be fun, especially if you channeled the Iron Chef, spoke fake Japanese, and dramatically bit into a pepper or an apple.
Stock up on celebrity magazines so you can pore over the pages and debate who's sexier: Brad Pitt or George Clooney.
What the hell? First of all, everyone knows it's George Clooney. Secondly, I'm a little too long in the tooth to be pulling the Tiger Beat shtick. The thought of me and my friends getting together and swooning over celebrity magazines makes me laugh.
Grab a hairbrush for a microphone and belt out your favorite songs karaoke-style.
What the hell? No, this deserves a what the f***?! The day my friends hear me belt out a song into a hairbrush microphone is the day I lose all my friends. I care about them too much to ever subject them to such a horror.
Once in your pj's, play a few rounds of Truth or Dare, then pull out the board games. Revisit classics like Clue, Life, Trivial Pursuit, and Monopoly.
Yeah, I really want to play Truth or Dare with my friends. Since when did junior high become fun again? And what are the dares going to be? Laugh uncontrollably without peeing a little bit? Smile without showing your laugh lines? Would we all do facial masks and put makeup on each other? How is that fun for anyone my age?
You know, I love my friends, and they're wonderful and smart women, but I really don't want to have a sleepover with them. I enjoy meeting up with them, talking about what is happening with us and around the world, but do I really want to snuggle up in my jammies with them, pull a Waltons and say "Good night, Jillian. Good night, Aubrey?" No, I do not. I suspect my friends would not enjoy such a thing either, and I suppose that's why I like them as friends.
Good grief. That was the silliest thing thing I've read in a while, and thanks a lot, Woman's Day, for publishing such nonsense. I can't blame it on the magazine, because they merely published a short segment from a book called Girls Getaway Guide by Casey Wohl. I don't know what planet Wohl is living on...I definitely love a good laugh, but my days of giggly girlhood are long behind me. Besides, they didn't mention anything about alcohol. Get real!
