girls' night in

last night I settled Poppalina, dressed and leisurely left for Naomi's place, near the french room (restaurant) in Woombye. I thought I would remember how to get there. I admit, I drove around the block (only once) because I couldn't remember which right it was, after passing the french room. it was the second. the second time.

regarding getting dressed though, I had to alter the whole concept of my attire, as I had thrown the sass and bides into the wash and following that, into the dryer, however; much too late to actually dry in time for me to wear. I had to do the whole arty thing and layer metalicus earthy orange, over khaki scoop neck top, over black scoop neck top, over black long, lycra skirt (I'm not making that up; it's an entirely appropriate skirt for a contemporary dance piece or halloween), over knee-high black boots. and velvet CR scarf to tie those odd tones in together. and the long black euro coat, which gives me the appearance of actually having been to europe. I think it was a little too Lynnie for my liking, however; Sam said it looked great so that's what I walked out the door wearing. n.b. all you old-fashioned feministas out there; I don't usually need my husband's approval of an outfit before I leave the house (in fact, it's usually a given that he'll love it), however; it's a bonus when he comments favourably on a newish season trend without having picked up this month's vogue or harpers bazaar. don't you think? pretty style-savvy, really! besides, I felt a little like I might be walking into a very informal interview situation. and what do you know? as soon as we got beyond introductions and lovely fan-flattery due to everyone present having been present at the show and loving it, I was chatting away to the dance and music teachers about future plans and prospects (mostly mine). AND about the no-denim code (it's just not professional! now, will everyone get over it?), which many independent schools have in common. so glad I didn't do the denim and sweater girl thing (though admittedly, only three of the girls were not in jeans themselves...on a friday night, on the last day of term, at a friend's place...ok, fair enough)!

Naomi and Andrew do dinners pretty properly, so there was champagne and canapes to start, followed by sit-down-at-the-table dinner of marinated/chilli chicken, potato bake and her waldorf salad with a simple, delightful blue cheese dressing, followed by poppy seed and orange syrup pudding, chocolate and coffee. formal but not. it was a very relaxed, happy, happy atmosphere and the girls were mostly alarmingly easy to get to know. it felt like I had, in a parallel universe perhaps, already spent a considerable amount of time with these people.

it's hard to get good friends, you know? even harder to keep them (Marnie, are you out there somewhere? are you happy? I wonder what you're doing. who you talk with. well, who shares your strawberry jam and cream on toast? for whom are you making coffee? we talk about what you might have been up to, you know; which path you may have chosen, whenever we meet- Jo, Annie, Lyndall, Susan, Ang, Aaron...we all wonder what happened to you, girlfriend, and what it was that you found, because, you know, whatever it was replaced a whole lotta things previously found in a whole lotta friends. I know I'm not the only one who wonders from time to time. you are missed, girlfriend). but old friends will always be old friends. we make friends for a reason, a season or a lifetime. and good friends, for whatever our need, can be found all around. they're already there. we probably already know them. the challenge is to recognise them. and then hold onto them.