Beware the mighty Capricorn trio!
It’s important to appreciate and celebrate the people who stick around for whole lifetimes. I’ve known these girls (they will always be my girls) since grade school, from band practice to study hall to lunch tables to football games to parades and dances and slumber parties. I know their faces as well I know my own, and they are more precious to me than I can say.
My dear, dear friends! How much I would give to cast a big wide net around this city and hold you in close forever.
I don't know who I would be without you.
And many thanks to suttonhoo & SarahB for manning the camera at the Regency.
p.s. I cannot wait to turn 50.
Last year I made one birthday wish, and what do you know? Eleven of my dearest girlfriends actually took me up on it! They start arriving today, friends from Chicago, from Wisconsin, from New Jersey and D.C. (not to mention those lucky enough to live on this little island with me). Some I've known for almost 30 years and others for just over one. Some will be missing—oh, and greatly missed—but today I am only grateful for this, per my dear Mr. Yeats:
Think where man's glory most begins and ends
And say my glory was I had such friends.
p.s. This is not hyperbole, and boys still are not invited.
I decided very late Thursday night to fly into Chicago for Mrs. Smith's birthday party on Saturday, because what's the point of being a single girl with disposable income if you can't use it to hide in the shower and surprise your friends? Suckers! And boy, was Mrs. Smith SURPRISED. She's a very good reactor, what with all the screaming and jumping and everything. (So is Chips, although I don't remember her doing any jumping, and Stretch says she thought I'd be there anyway because she has the special alien power of foresight and reading between the lines.) Anyway, I kind of like mailing myself halfway across America to some of my favorite people in the world.
Also, I was chastised no fewer than five times for being too loud while playing a FAKE GAME. So: you're welcome, ladies! See you next year.
I have celebrated my last four birthdays with either suttonhoo and/or SarahB (last year we were at the Carlyle). And oh my goodness! If you are ever lucky enough to turn 39 in New York City, do yourself the loveliest favor and have dinner at The Modern (conveniently located right inside MoMA). We ate from the prix fixe menu, and baby, the food kept coming and coming and coming, each course better than the last. (If you are even luckier, you can perhaps rent out suttonhoo and SarahB at the same time, but they do not come cheap. Also, we've decided it's possible that suttonhoo is actually a vampire, since even though she's one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, she is allergic to cameras.)
This arrived after the amuse-bouche but before the appetizer: gazpacho with caviar and smoked salmon. Don't you just love that word, "amuse-bouche"? I say it to myself all the time. Keeps things spicy at home.
Hello! Of course I am chorizo-crusted codfish with white coco bean puree and harissa oil! You will want to lick the plate after I am gone. (P.S. Is it not your birthday? DO IT.)
After dessert, they brought out cookies & such.
And a slice of this fabulous pistachio birthday cake (unprompted! By which I mean there are ears in this restaurant, and I talk pretty loud.).
And then came these teeny tiny ice cream cones. (I specifically included this shot of my magnificent 39-year-old ass* as a special gift to you.)
Look! The Modern! We emptied this baby out.
It was indeed the best dining experience I have had in NYC, thanks in no small part to the waitstaff, all of whom were patient, solicitous, knowledgeable, thoughtful, and exceptionally good of humor. It was such a joy!*
And look who showed up just in time for coffee! Actually I was carrying him around in my purse, for reasons unknown.
Thank you so, so much for sharing this with me, ladies. Till next year!
*Please. Dear Readers, this is SARCASM. You are not even seeing my whole ass.
From the class of ’88, missing only Erin. From kindergarten to graduation, from German class to study hall, from field trips to band practice and parades and football games and cafeteria tables and Friday nights and weekends, these people were my formative years. They know it all, and tell the stories. I love them dearly; I will never let them go.