Last night, I went out for a Mom's Night Out gathering with home schooling mothers Katie, Michelle, Gloria, Stephanie and Mary Jo and had the best time. We went to a Mexican restaurant in Noblesville and our waitress was sweeter than sopaipillas with honey. When Gloria asked her for another glass of water, the waitress brought it back and said, "Here you are, amiga." And when I thanked her for the Diet Coke she brought me, she patted me on the shoulder and said, "De nada."
There's just something about being with a group of friends in a cozy little restaurant on a cool October evening with a hint of rain in the air to make you feel that life is very good indeed.
Katie and I had taco salads and Gloria had fajitas and Michelle had some kind of steak with onions all over the top of it, and guacamole.
"Onions," she groaned, one hand on her baby bump. "I've started carrying Tums with me in my purse. I have heartburn, like, all the time."
"I'm middle-aged," Katie said dryly. "I have heartburn all the time and I'm not pregnant."
"I'm middle-aged and I have some pills I have to swallow right here at the table," I said brightly.
"My parents have to do that," said one of the YOUNGER MEMBERS OF THE GROUP in a sympathetic voice.
We did a little minor complaining about our husbands and their tendency to listen to us telling them about our day with one eye on Sports Center and the other eye on our irresistible selves.
"Not in my house," said Gloria, who is tiny and beautiful and from the Philippines. "In my house, Mike comes home and he wants to talk during The Amazing Race and I have to say, 'Sssh, honey, talk to me during the commercials.'"
This made us all laugh really hard. Also the fact that Gloria likes those hard-boiled crime shows. Michelle prefers reality television, I weep over Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stay glued to Survivor, Top Chef and the odd home improvement shows and Katie said she hasn't turned on her television in three years.
In respectful silence, we all turned our eyes on her.
"Three years?" said Michelle.
"Three years?!?" I squeaked.
"Wow. Three years," said Stephanie, wide-eyed.
I nearly had to lay my head down to absorb this information. Because, three years? Golly.
Since Michelle is pregnant and Mary Jo has a three month old baby, we talked about babies for a while. Childbirth. Food we craved during pregnancy (Michelle is finding solace in chocolate chip vanilla ice cream, which she insists she eats for medicinal reasons only). Which led, of course, to talking about all the things we eat now.
"In the Crock-Pot," said Michelle. "Pork chops. Two cans of chicken and rice soup poured over it, really easy and good. Everyone ate it, and hardly anyone in my house wants to eat anything I cook. It really ticks me off."
We had a discussion on how hard it is to make sloppy joes without using onions and concluded that it's impossible: what non-onion-loving members of the family don't know won't hurt them in terms of onion powder. Katie said that Gary has his own special recipe for sloppy joes and I told everyone that my sloppy joe recipe comes from a church cook book and its secret ingredient is half a can of Coke.
Mary Jo told us that the herb valerian is a good sleep aid and that her mother was trying four drops of essential oil in a capsule that very night; I'm still waiting on an email to find out if it worked, because if it did, I'm going to get some.
I didn't have any sort of sleep aid for last night, and I drove home at 10:00 p.m., my blood whizzing through my veins due to those five glasses of Diet Coke I'd injudiciously consumed after emptying half a bottle of habanera pepper sauce on my salad. I ended up being awake until 2:30.
But it was fun! I would do it again tonight if I could. Love the lovely friends.
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