Oy, the price of kosher food in Manhattan.
Carrie, my super fab college pal, and I went out to dinner on the totally rainy, gloomy Thursday. Cue the thunder.
We had some fancy Italian food at Gusto Va Mare and bitched about our aging bodies. Ah, the terrible cholesterol. Ah, those lovely 20 lbs we’ve gained since college. Ah, the love handles. We reminsced about days before we had to consume mass quantities of heart healthy Cheerios oatmeal to stay healthy.
The great thing about “old friends” is that no matter how much time has past since you last saw them, you just fall back into things. You banter. You (air) hug, laugh, cry and it’s like you’re a teenager again (Carrie and I met when we were 18 and 19, respectively)…without all that emotional drama.
Carrie’s claim to fame: I knew that he was the one. And yes, Carrie, you did tell me a number of times that all the guys before were schmucks. But I never listened.
Here’s to growing old together: chubby thighs and all.
Things I learned today:
I live in a parallel universe where I don’t see Manhattan very often and am therefore shocked by how loud the subway can be and perturbed by having to swerve to ensure not bumping into folks of all shapes and sizes.
You can pay for cabs with your credit card. Swipe in the back. And in case, your PDA or phone doesn’t get cable, watch TV while stuck in traffic.
Sigh, I am a boring, old, married lady who never stays out past 10pm (well, I ducked out until midnight today). I like it.