Old Friends, Gold Friends

I hurt.

But just in my cheeks.

Laughter can be dangerous to your cheek health, I think.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time for girls weekend. This batch of girls have been together for a

very. 

long. 

time.

Most of us met when we were in middle school, some as early as sixth grade, but one of us joined the group when she came over the pond from Switzerland for her senior year of high school. M pulled off the greatest surprise of the year when our Swiss Miss, B, showed up this weekend. None of the rest of us knew she was coming. M had been talking to B about our trip a few weeks ago. B thought about it for a little bit, then told M she was thinking about joining us.

Holy surprise attack, Batman!

I saw M pull into the driveway and went off to get my bags. When I opened the door, B was standing there. Right in front me. Having traveled three thousand seven hundred and eighty two miles to see us.

She is the best.

I screamed. I jumped around, and then grabbed her in a big hug. Then screamed some more. M stood in the background, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

What a moment.

So the laughter started from that very first moment and has not stopped.

We laughed our way through a delicious dinner with some very welcoming waitstaff. They gave us free whoopie pies for dessert. And then tried to give us their boss.

We laughed our way through M's Grand Prix driving show, navigating us through the city streets, missing turn after turn. C, our southern gal, kept yelling out "Raaad" (which is southern speak for "red") to give M a head's up on traffic lights.

We were all thankful for that.

We learned fairly quickly to get in the car RIGHT AWAY. Or M will start driving without you. Poor B was barely in her seat when the car started rolling. She scooted in, grasping at the door to shut it, trying not to fall out at the same time.

Sassy M just smiled and floored it.

After a long day, we went back to M's house and nestled in to watch a movie. We poured ourselves glasses of wine, put together a plate of sweet, sugary desserts, and popped in "The Intouchables."

A great movie.

Except it was in french. 

B speaks some french, but was having a hard time keeping up with the dialogue. The rest of us were picking up words here and there but not enough to follow the movie. We started making up our own story. Which led to more giggling. But after a short bit, we really wanted to know what they were saying.

We had to switch on subtitles. 

It was time to get the remote. Except we had three remotes and none of them seemed to work. M kept trying and trying, pushing this or that button and switching out batteries. Nothing. No menu, no subtitle options.

After about fifteen minutes of trying to figure this out, M got a wee bit frustrated and threw the remote. It hit the floor and separated into pieces, each of them skittering across the wood floor. Uh-oh.

We all stopped and just looked at her. Then we looked at the television.

There were subtitles across the bottom of the screen.

She's good.