Old Friends and Warm Meals

We had dinner with my high school friends. Well, really, just my friends. Doesn't matter how or why we're friends. We're just friends.

M and M. The Alaska people.

B and her niece, A. B's hubby couldn't join us. Pooh.

The Man and I.

It was a cool October night and we were tucked in, nice and warm, to a Mexican restaurant. We ate the most scrumptious food and drank delicious margaritas. At least some of us did. Some of us didn't.

We were saving room for dessert.

House made flan with a hint of coffee. House made churros drizzled in chocolate sauce with vanilla ice cream and fresh whipped cream.

Holy moly, me oh mi. You're the apple of my eye. They were good.

Lots and lots of laughs and stories. Talking about grandparents and grandchildren, sons and daughters, moms and dads. We are all so close and so connected to each other that we feel like one big family. 

Love these ladies and the people in their lives.

__________

B told us a story about her mom getting kicked out of a bar for shooting spitballs. 

B was in high school when this happened and we all remember her mom from those years. Oy vey. She was a handful and a half.

I'm happy to report she still is.