I have mentioned my friends before. I value my friends like nothing else. They are someone to lean on, listen to, cry on, giggle with, play with, and hold high as exemplary people that make me better than I would be without them.
I have recently developed a friendship with someone new - a freelance writer for the Spokesman-Review and several other publications. Her name is Cindy Hval. She enriches me and subtly reminds me to see the lighter things in life. What sets her apart from others is her sense of humor, quick wit, and eloquent compassion.
I invited her to share dinner with my friends a month ago; she in turn wrote a column about us – a sequel to a Spokesman-Review article about us done in 1993 – so 15 years later, we are hardly changed at all. If anything, we imbue the phrase, we aren't getting older, we are getting better.
I am one of the luckiest people on earth to have so many very close and dear friends, and to count Cindy as one of them.
Please read the beautiful Article by Cindy Hval in the Spokesman-Review today.
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Showing posts with label Girl friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Girl friends. Show all posts
11.06.2008
8.26.2008
Dinner with Friends
I have mentioned my group of friends before – we are "sisters of the heart." I think we are like a marriage but even better – our divorce rate (I mean us, the "sisters") is a whole lot lower than for all those other married couples. We have been a loyal group of five for just endless years (around 30) and we have never sought out a younger, firmer replacement, nor have we had illicit and clandestine meetings with anyone we would think were filling our needs better than the other four members of our group. We have occasionally had a sixth person – usually a daughter, sometimes a mother. Our mothers have all passed away and now we are running through the daughters as our sixth.
The five of us are J1, J2, J3 (me), S, and C. I say their initials only because they would freak if I publicized our antics for strangers to read and they would slap their hands over their mouths if someone actually knew who I was talking about. So – a lot of subterfuge going on.
We meet once a month for dinner and our conversations are laced with gossip, sex, sagas, episodes, tears, laughter, and on into the night. We choose different places throughout Spokane for our monthly gathering. We tend to forget that there is anyone else present in our space – like the waiter or waitress. Waitresses seem to understand what we are talking about; waiters always come in at the very end of a topic or at the peak of a topic and walk away thinking we are discussing all the steps in making love to our mailman without our husbands getting the drift, only we were actually talking about our dogs being bred to raise pure bred puppies. Like I said – men tend to get a small piece of the whole story and walk away with a whole new story on us. Out of context. Really!
We share intimate details of our lives while enjoying each other's company for these monthly trysts.
For example, J1 had breast surgery, which she paid for herself, to make her more endowed. We individually went with her to the restroom at one of our dinners to have a viewing. It caused quite a lot of heads turning, people buzzing, what's going on – and hard to explain that NO we aren't doing an imitation of Larry Craig. After all the ooing and ahhing, we settled down for dinner and J1 passed a sack to me of her cast off bras, which slipped in the hand-off and spilled all over the floor of the bar we had decided to eat in. So – here I am, blushing the color of a tomato, gathering up various "practical" bras for someone who obviously doesn't really have a use for them. But there you have it.
We get along fairly well for being almost sisters. We have our moments of sibling angst. But we work through it. One of us usually has some major trauma/event to discuss at dinner and we are fairly decent about sharing our two hours together so each of us has a chance to spill our hearts – whether for five minutes or for 30 minutes, whatever we need. We have no rules. We aren't judgmental, well, rarely. I'm sure when two of us get together away from the others a little judgment might happen.
To be continued, for sure. . . .
.
The five of us are J1, J2, J3 (me), S, and C. I say their initials only because they would freak if I publicized our antics for strangers to read and they would slap their hands over their mouths if someone actually knew who I was talking about. So – a lot of subterfuge going on.
We meet once a month for dinner and our conversations are laced with gossip, sex, sagas, episodes, tears, laughter, and on into the night. We choose different places throughout Spokane for our monthly gathering. We tend to forget that there is anyone else present in our space – like the waiter or waitress. Waitresses seem to understand what we are talking about; waiters always come in at the very end of a topic or at the peak of a topic and walk away thinking we are discussing all the steps in making love to our mailman without our husbands getting the drift, only we were actually talking about our dogs being bred to raise pure bred puppies. Like I said – men tend to get a small piece of the whole story and walk away with a whole new story on us. Out of context. Really!
We share intimate details of our lives while enjoying each other's company for these monthly trysts.
For example, J1 had breast surgery, which she paid for herself, to make her more endowed. We individually went with her to the restroom at one of our dinners to have a viewing. It caused quite a lot of heads turning, people buzzing, what's going on – and hard to explain that NO we aren't doing an imitation of Larry Craig. After all the ooing and ahhing, we settled down for dinner and J1 passed a sack to me of her cast off bras, which slipped in the hand-off and spilled all over the floor of the bar we had decided to eat in. So – here I am, blushing the color of a tomato, gathering up various "practical" bras for someone who obviously doesn't really have a use for them. But there you have it.
We get along fairly well for being almost sisters. We have our moments of sibling angst. But we work through it. One of us usually has some major trauma/event to discuss at dinner and we are fairly decent about sharing our two hours together so each of us has a chance to spill our hearts – whether for five minutes or for 30 minutes, whatever we need. We have no rules. We aren't judgmental, well, rarely. I'm sure when two of us get together away from the others a little judgment might happen.
To be continued, for sure. . . .
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7.16.2008
Girls' Night Out -or- The Fire Up There
Tonight is my monthly dinner with four friends. We have been doing this eating thing for 30 years, monthly, religiously, unfailingly, devotedly. We save up our individual little daily "adventures" (single mothers (well, parents generally) have very few days that roll along without and "adventure") and then we share them at our dinner table, along with commiserating with each other on their unique adventures of the last four weeks.
This time we can hardly stand ourselves to sit by idly waiting for the minutes to pass until 6:30. One of our group lived through and survived the Spokane Valley View Fire of 2008, Thursday July 10. Last Thursday we had a fierce wind storm that whipped up a little campfire to a roaring frenzy, aiming it at an exclusive gated community of very expensive homes, with one single access road going north. The fire and the smoke were unbelievable, the wind insurmountable. In the end, the firestorm acted like some tornado you would see in Indiana. It twisted and turned and jumped any which way, striking one house, leaving another, and pouncing on the third. Eleven houses were burned. There was little carnage – it burned so hot and fast, that nothing is left except cement pillars, cement porches, cement foundations, and lots of ash. It spread over 1,000 acres, slipping through the locked community gate and indiscriminately changed lives forever. Fortunately, and blessedly, there were no injuries or deaths. Not sure about pets – but people came out from everywhere, strangers, and took in dogs, cats, horses, goats, while their human families were evacuated.
My dinner group friend lives in the middle of the fire zone. She and her sister (another of my dinner group) were doing errands on Thursday and noticed the smoke coming from the area quite a ways west of my friend's house. They both thought nothing of it - that it was just a small brush fire or maybe even a controlled burn. They went on with their chores. When she drove up to her house, though, a guy was parked by her driveway and she asked him why he was there and he said "Oh, I'm just watching that fire." She looked over and it was suddenly a lot of smoke - an awful lot. She still felt safe though - that the wind was blowing more northerly than southerly. However, when she got in the house, her animals were all acting totally nuts and she decided to take caution, even if it were too much, and started gathering important papers.
She is WAAAYYYYY more organized than I am. She was able to instantly put her hands on: a box of pictures; a box of bills and statements; and a box of all the receipts and floor plans for her house, which she and her husband built about ten years ago. She loaded the boxes into her car, gathered up the animals and stuffed them beside the boxes, and started down the road - only to come across fire on both sides - near the Pring house (a two million dollar mansion which would be engulfed moments after she passed). A little trickle of fire was running across the road and she floored it past there and drove until she reached a "meadow" which was a baseball field that one of the gated community residents built. There she waited with about 30 other residents, AND a fireman. They couldn't get down further because a larger branch of the fire was burning across the road. They sat there in pretty much a safe zone and watched the fire burn around them, sweep up towards her house, and crawl around and down the other side across from the baseball field. About two hours later, they all were led out of the fire zone. Her house was saved - but the two on either side of her were burned to the ground.
So I have been quite introspective lately. I could easily be jealous of my friend – she lives on top of the world, with a great view, locked safely in behind a key-coded gate, in a house that she and her husband built, their dream home, for half a million (one of the lower end houses).
There is much to be thankful for that we (well, I) take for granted. My house is paid for, is comfortable and fits me, has good insurance on it, in case a purple elephant should fall on it. I have a plethora of friends that fill my various needs for affection, caring, praise, love, empathy. I have a good car that is paid for and gets 34 mpg, a real necessity today with soaring gas prices. I have two adult sons that are my whole life! A house is simply shelter. A house can be easily replaced. My friends and family cannot.
.
This time we can hardly stand ourselves to sit by idly waiting for the minutes to pass until 6:30. One of our group lived through and survived the Spokane Valley View Fire of 2008, Thursday July 10. Last Thursday we had a fierce wind storm that whipped up a little campfire to a roaring frenzy, aiming it at an exclusive gated community of very expensive homes, with one single access road going north. The fire and the smoke were unbelievable, the wind insurmountable. In the end, the firestorm acted like some tornado you would see in Indiana. It twisted and turned and jumped any which way, striking one house, leaving another, and pouncing on the third. Eleven houses were burned. There was little carnage – it burned so hot and fast, that nothing is left except cement pillars, cement porches, cement foundations, and lots of ash. It spread over 1,000 acres, slipping through the locked community gate and indiscriminately changed lives forever. Fortunately, and blessedly, there were no injuries or deaths. Not sure about pets – but people came out from everywhere, strangers, and took in dogs, cats, horses, goats, while their human families were evacuated.
My dinner group friend lives in the middle of the fire zone. She and her sister (another of my dinner group) were doing errands on Thursday and noticed the smoke coming from the area quite a ways west of my friend's house. They both thought nothing of it - that it was just a small brush fire or maybe even a controlled burn. They went on with their chores. When she drove up to her house, though, a guy was parked by her driveway and she asked him why he was there and he said "Oh, I'm just watching that fire." She looked over and it was suddenly a lot of smoke - an awful lot. She still felt safe though - that the wind was blowing more northerly than southerly. However, when she got in the house, her animals were all acting totally nuts and she decided to take caution, even if it were too much, and started gathering important papers.
She is WAAAYYYYY more organized than I am. She was able to instantly put her hands on: a box of pictures; a box of bills and statements; and a box of all the receipts and floor plans for her house, which she and her husband built about ten years ago. She loaded the boxes into her car, gathered up the animals and stuffed them beside the boxes, and started down the road - only to come across fire on both sides - near the Pring house (a two million dollar mansion which would be engulfed moments after she passed). A little trickle of fire was running across the road and she floored it past there and drove until she reached a "meadow" which was a baseball field that one of the gated community residents built. There she waited with about 30 other residents, AND a fireman. They couldn't get down further because a larger branch of the fire was burning across the road. They sat there in pretty much a safe zone and watched the fire burn around them, sweep up towards her house, and crawl around and down the other side across from the baseball field. About two hours later, they all were led out of the fire zone. Her house was saved - but the two on either side of her were burned to the ground.
So I have been quite introspective lately. I could easily be jealous of my friend – she lives on top of the world, with a great view, locked safely in behind a key-coded gate, in a house that she and her husband built, their dream home, for half a million (one of the lower end houses).
There is much to be thankful for that we (well, I) take for granted. My house is paid for, is comfortable and fits me, has good insurance on it, in case a purple elephant should fall on it. I have a plethora of friends that fill my various needs for affection, caring, praise, love, empathy. I have a good car that is paid for and gets 34 mpg, a real necessity today with soaring gas prices. I have two adult sons that are my whole life! A house is simply shelter. A house can be easily replaced. My friends and family cannot.
.
6.17.2008
Friends and Soul Mates
Friendship is such a powerful thing. Do you ever think about it? Do you think about who your best friend is? Do you have one main special friend or several?
I have four friends that came together as an informal spontaneous "support" group. It started more than 30 years ago, when I was working two jobs to help ends meet and raising my two sons alone. I cleaned houses as a second job – I cleaned four police officers' homes and one of them was one of the first women on the Spokane Police Department. She is integral to this story because we all were brought together by her: She has a sister, and then an ex-sister-in-law (ditched the husband but kept his sister), and then her best friend whom she met while they were attending Alcoholics Anonymous for Spouses, and then me, her part time house keeper. (She hates when I introduce myself that way!)
We met because we all were single mothers; we were all around the same age (I'm the baby); our children were around the same age; and we were in-between relationships. We have religiously met for dinner once a month, and rotate who picks the dinner. We have individually only missed a dinner for whatever reason keeps us away, however, the group itself has NEVER missed a dinner in all these 30+ years.
We were front page news (well, Section C front page) of the Spokesman Review in 1992, where we were crowned "The Diners' Club" by the S-R writer, Rebecca Nappi. Thank you, Becky! The most amazing thing was the number of MEN who read and commented on our ariticle! {smile}
We are alike.
We are different.
We have been at each others' weddings and held each other through divorces; we have gone through teenage traumas with each of our children, together; we have taken on the ailments that pester people as they get older and we do it with aplomb and humor; we have supported our children in their struggles stepping into adulthood; we have survived all of our parents and now are 50-60-ish orphans. We cry on each others' shoulders, rant and rave about whoever is wronging us, share deep and private secrets that go no further than the table we are sitting at, laugh and giggle, weep, cry, commiserate, sympathize, and empathize – sometimes all of this several times in a two-hour period.
We started a "mad money" pot several years ago where we would pitch in $10 a month to fund something, anything, to get out of Dodge for a night or two. Our "mad money" pot has paid airfare, hotel, and food on two trips to Seattle, one trip to Yakima for the Spirit of Seattle dinner train that was stationed there (before it moved to Seattle); we spent a Christmas night in Coeur d'Alene overlooking the lake, with Santa's Village visible on the other side; another Christmas in Sandpoint for an absolutely magical snowy Christmas. We have a group Christmas card that got started in the mid-80s that we pass around on a rotational basis and we each take turns summarizing the year we have just finished; we have had pages added to it; I finally scrounged card shops for a new envelope to replace the frayed one. We each have had the card during a year that invariably is one of transition – literally – where the Keeper Of The Card is moving to another house and at the same time tries dutifully to keep in mind which box has "The Card." I personally would hyperventilate over it for 365 days until I handed it over to the next person at our Christmas brunch, with a huge sigh of relief that I didn't lose it. (Or throw it away.)
Our best trip by far was to Disneyland – twice. We saved enough to pay for several days in the Park. Our first trip, we piled into a taxi at the LA airport, five of us "old" ladies chattering and giggling at once and the driver fell in love with us. He happened to be going off duty for the weekend, but he "adopted" us and became our driver for the weekend. He got our plane schedule and then faithfully picked us up at 6:00 in the morning, took us to breakfast, drove us to the Park, told us to meet him here at this spot at 1:00 to take us back to the hotel for our "naps" and then drove us back to the Park for the rest of the day, picking us up at 11:00 at night and delivering us back to the hotel, watching us c-r-a-w-l up the steps to our room, only to start it all over again the next day. He figured out that our plane left at 5:00 in the evening and calculated how many play hours we could spend at the Park, and he picked us up and delivered us to the airport in plenty of time for our plane ride home. Thank you, John!!!!
We have talked about everything you can imagine from men, to menopause, to teens, to men, to independent women, to old age, to men, to ….. hmmm, well, MEN. We have all been through serious illnesses and without the support of each other, we would have flailed cluelessly through it all. One of us is a breast cancer survivor, one of us has Lupus; one of us has kidney disease; one of us has been diagnosed with Parkinson's. We hold each other up, lift each other up, and brighten each other's lives. I don't know what I would do without these four women in my life.
I have four friends that came together as an informal spontaneous "support" group. It started more than 30 years ago, when I was working two jobs to help ends meet and raising my two sons alone. I cleaned houses as a second job – I cleaned four police officers' homes and one of them was one of the first women on the Spokane Police Department. She is integral to this story because we all were brought together by her: She has a sister, and then an ex-sister-in-law (ditched the husband but kept his sister), and then her best friend whom she met while they were attending Alcoholics Anonymous for Spouses, and then me, her part time house keeper. (She hates when I introduce myself that way!)
We met because we all were single mothers; we were all around the same age (I'm the baby); our children were around the same age; and we were in-between relationships. We have religiously met for dinner once a month, and rotate who picks the dinner. We have individually only missed a dinner for whatever reason keeps us away, however, the group itself has NEVER missed a dinner in all these 30+ years.
We were front page news (well, Section C front page) of the Spokesman Review in 1992, where we were crowned "The Diners' Club" by the S-R writer, Rebecca Nappi. Thank you, Becky! The most amazing thing was the number of MEN who read and commented on our ariticle! {smile}
We are alike.
We are different.
We have been at each others' weddings and held each other through divorces; we have gone through teenage traumas with each of our children, together; we have taken on the ailments that pester people as they get older and we do it with aplomb and humor; we have supported our children in their struggles stepping into adulthood; we have survived all of our parents and now are 50-60-ish orphans. We cry on each others' shoulders, rant and rave about whoever is wronging us, share deep and private secrets that go no further than the table we are sitting at, laugh and giggle, weep, cry, commiserate, sympathize, and empathize – sometimes all of this several times in a two-hour period.
We started a "mad money" pot several years ago where we would pitch in $10 a month to fund something, anything, to get out of Dodge for a night or two. Our "mad money" pot has paid airfare, hotel, and food on two trips to Seattle, one trip to Yakima for the Spirit of Seattle dinner train that was stationed there (before it moved to Seattle); we spent a Christmas night in Coeur d'Alene overlooking the lake, with Santa's Village visible on the other side; another Christmas in Sandpoint for an absolutely magical snowy Christmas. We have a group Christmas card that got started in the mid-80s that we pass around on a rotational basis and we each take turns summarizing the year we have just finished; we have had pages added to it; I finally scrounged card shops for a new envelope to replace the frayed one. We each have had the card during a year that invariably is one of transition – literally – where the Keeper Of The Card is moving to another house and at the same time tries dutifully to keep in mind which box has "The Card." I personally would hyperventilate over it for 365 days until I handed it over to the next person at our Christmas brunch, with a huge sigh of relief that I didn't lose it. (Or throw it away.)
Our best trip by far was to Disneyland – twice. We saved enough to pay for several days in the Park. Our first trip, we piled into a taxi at the LA airport, five of us "old" ladies chattering and giggling at once and the driver fell in love with us. He happened to be going off duty for the weekend, but he "adopted" us and became our driver for the weekend. He got our plane schedule and then faithfully picked us up at 6:00 in the morning, took us to breakfast, drove us to the Park, told us to meet him here at this spot at 1:00 to take us back to the hotel for our "naps" and then drove us back to the Park for the rest of the day, picking us up at 11:00 at night and delivering us back to the hotel, watching us c-r-a-w-l up the steps to our room, only to start it all over again the next day. He figured out that our plane left at 5:00 in the evening and calculated how many play hours we could spend at the Park, and he picked us up and delivered us to the airport in plenty of time for our plane ride home. Thank you, John!!!!
We have talked about everything you can imagine from men, to menopause, to teens, to men, to independent women, to old age, to men, to ….. hmmm, well, MEN. We have all been through serious illnesses and without the support of each other, we would have flailed cluelessly through it all. One of us is a breast cancer survivor, one of us has Lupus; one of us has kidney disease; one of us has been diagnosed with Parkinson's. We hold each other up, lift each other up, and brighten each other's lives. I don't know what I would do without these four women in my life.
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