10/23/2010

Girls' Getaway, or why hooker shoes are really just for hookers.


My friend Natalie and I took off on a wild adventure to Nashville this past week.

Actually, it wasn't very wild.

And it wasn't incredibly adventuresome.

But we did have a great time.

Long ago, Nat and I lived in the same city and worked in the same place.  We saw each other every day, one way or the other.  We spent our time together shopping, eating, shopping, making things out of beads and wire, shopping, drinking, writing business plans, drinking and shopping.

About nine years ago, I moved away.

We saw each other less and less, but scheduled regular phone dates.

Then we both had kids, and houses, and promotions at our jobs, and long distance friendships are hard.  Really hard.  But we kept plugging away at it.  Whenever we did get together, was very kid-centric.  Sometimes weeks would pass without having a conversation, but every time the phone rang, we would pick back up just like we were talking fifteen minutes ago.  She's that kind of friend.

Since I quit my job a few months ago, I've found myself with a bit more free time on my hands, and Natalie and I decided that it was way past time for a girls' getaway.  In typical me fashion, I did not care where we went, what we did, how long we stayed, or where we ate while there.  In typical her fashion, she made great suggestions that at some point I came to believe were my idea.

I got tickets for a show.  We love us some Boo Radley.

Nat booked us a hotel room.

We were set.

We spent the first day shopping and shopping eating at The Cheesecake Factory and shopping.  We both have a Pandora addiction that may require professional intervention at some point.

We checked into the hotel.  The photo at the top of the post was our view from the hotel room.  I'm still not completely recovered from that one time that Willie cut his hair but I still love ya, Willie.  Deep down where it counts.

Anyway, we got ready for the play.  Nat looked lovely in her black and red dress and matching hooker shoes red high heels.  I have troll feet.  I cannot wear cute shoes, especially heels.  So I only looked good from the calves up.  Whatever.  We took off walking the 12 or so blocks from the hotel to the Performing Arts Center.  

At about block three, Nat was slowing down.  By block six, she was limping.  By block eight, she was weeping from the gigantic blister the hooker shoes cute red shoes had left on her foot.

The play was great.  The actor playing Atticus was excellent.  The actor playing the sheriff looked exactly like a former boss of mine, and every time he was on stage I expected him to start yelling "Membership equals sales!" or to have everyone in the audience line up to high-five each other.  

After the play, we took a cab to The Melting Pot (Yum!), and then went back to the hotel for the evening so we could play games on our iPhones.  We're just not the party girls we used to be, I guess.

The next morning, I texted RJ to see how everything was going at home. His response:

"Cj and I had a bit of a rough night.  Zj slept fine."

I offered my condolences, and his reply was:

"If it makes you feel any better, he was often screaming for you at the top of his lungs.  Also, he threw his doll at me."

Hmmm...  Uh, sorry?

But there was more shopping to do.  I couldn't be distracted.  

We spent the second day shopping and shopping and eating at Red Robin and shopping.  Did I mention that we both have a Pandora addiction?

On the way home, we decided to do it again next year.  

Then we amended it to twice a year.

Spring shopping extravaganza plans to be determined.

1 comment:

  1. This is timely -- since I'm heading to Cincy next weekend with my girls. I'll leave the hooker shoes at home :)

    ReplyDelete

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