This morning when I woke, for the first time in months my jealous and possessive almost 6 year old was not snuggled up against me, his sweet, perfect little face belying his fierce competitiveness for my constant love and attention...Well, at least I have that power over someone, right? I will take it where 
I can get it at this point... Anyway, he was where he is supposed to be, in his room with his brother, and I lay beneath a mammoth weight of fabric -- two Stonehill College-logoed blankets, my Ralph Lauren comforter, a cotton quilt and a top sheet. Also, I was wearing a full-on long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants (not pretty J. Crew lounge-wear, as is my habit... no, no -- these were baggy George Costanza-esque, elastic-waisted sweatpants...). Mmmmm, luscious and sexy, right? Yeah, maybe not. Hot though, that's for sure...and not in the good way.
Ok, so maybe I covered myself and hunkered down in bed last night by 8:45 and layered all these items atop of me in hopes of sweating out this swine flu or whatever it is that has gripped my bronchial tubes...and I think it worked a little...because here I sit, in my office, Purell bottle at my side, trying to pretend I am not the one who is coughing...though there are only four of us sitting here in very close quarters. I know, I know...I am that jerk who comes to the office even though I know I am under the weather...the one everyone b*tches about, touching the phones and the copier and the file cabinets. But it's the German in me...you know, because I hate appearing weak, and I promised I would be here, and I don't like to divert from plan or let anyone down...I hate when people are mad at me or have to take on extra work because I am being a big wimpy little baby with my 100 degree fever...Yet, I am fully aware that if they all end up with this bronchial scratchiness and headachey malaise, they will be sick and pissed...lethal combo. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Gwen is freaking out just reading this, breaking out her Clorox and pouring it all over her desk even though she is sitting safely in an office miles across the Hudson River from me...
Honestly though...I am almost 100% certain I am not contagious...and I am pretty sure it's not viral...no, this affliction is unique to me, I believe....I swear my body is having an adverse reaction to all these lawyers in the office... Yes, the constant twist-talking and delaying of the process and marathon safeguarding and cover your a** games of the esquire can be wearing, no? Makes me want to put my head down on my desk and tune the hell out.... Oh come on, my la
wyerly friends and family members out there...You know I love you all and fully enjoy the time I spend with you...but let's be honest (and I can say this because I am perfect) even you lovely darlings can be a teensy weensy bit, ever so slightly argumentative on occasion. Just saying....(please don't sue me...).
So thankfully this little malady struck me this week...good timing because the family trip to Bermuda approaches and I have way too much fun to have down there to be sickly and cranky. Aside from that I might have missed out on some good times my girlfriends and I embarked on these past two weeks. First there was Greek Night on my deck with the gourmet posse...we scarfed all that Mediterranean deliciousnes
s and I cracked out a pretty kicka** baklava...and if that doesn't make a group of women swoon, I don't know what does. Then, it was Gwen's birthday a few weeks back so the succession of celebrations were in order...dinner this past Saturday with Gwen and Sam...batting our eyes at the extra tall and flirty off-duty police officer/deliveryman as we awaited seating...Sam all shocked that Gwen was turning the (not old) age she has: "You're --?!" she repeated over and over again at the top of her lungs, everyone turning to look as Gwen blushed. I asked the hostess for a microphone so the folks in the dining room could hear too...she just gave me a puzzled look. Then after dinner we hit Pane e Vino, entertaining a pair of aging guidos who continued to chat 
with us even as we offered snarky replies to their genuinely nice questions (just an aside...I think that aging guidos have become de facto fans of mine due to this crazy nest of uncontrollable waves and curls that I have sprouted this past year...I think it is a throwback to the mallrat era of the '80's...they think I am one of them!!). So the three of us did not stop laughing all night...I love that. Also in celebration of Gwen the week prior, a bunch of us hung on Nancy's sofa, the monsoon season forcing us inside...we had mojitos an
d grilled pizza's by Tim...and we touched on all the girl subjects: kids, food, men, sex, work, clothes, makeup, lipgloss, hairdressers, shopping....I could go on. And it was there that Susan brought up a new scientific study that had been reported on...and the findings essentially proved what we have been saying all along: Girl talk is good for you.
Did I need a study to tell me this? Not really, but thanks, Science, for giving me even more reasons to hang with my besties. I am kind of dependent on interacting with my girls and in addition to daily phone calls with Suse and hours mulling details with Allison or Cath and monthly gourmet dinnering and Church Lady drinkfests, A
mber and I have taken to scheduling Sunday coffee breaks weeks in advance just so we know we will get our fix (of each other...). And Rob is beyond questioning it...this has been a long-standing theme in our relationship...I went to all-girls school, so this sisterhood thing is just part of me at this point. But the study explained why women bond so tightly to one another...when partaking in an emotionally close task, such as sharing their secrets and intimate thoughts, women release progesterone, an indicator for Oxytocin (that delicious little brain chemical that is 
also released when one is experiencing new love...yum...). And as a result of all this hormonal stuff going on, it is shown that the release of progesterone due to social bonding enables women to put the well-being of their friends ahead of their own interests.
And that is exactly how I feel. In a second I would give up the last pair of shoes in my size if one of the girls was dying to own them (this proclamation is made easier by the fact that my feet are at least a size and a half smaller than the next smallest...)...and I would leave an important meeting to take an SOS call from any one of them, even if it was just an update on the current state of the Jolie-Pitts marriage...and I would even share my secret
recipe for that cheesy onion-y slop that they all clamor for...(or they could just buy the Grace Nursery Cookbook and get it there...).
You know, Nancy, Amber and I have always joked that we could do anything together...plan events, run companies, raise families, develop products (Winter's Dawn!). And of course, we love our men with all of our hearts, but the concept of we ladies all living communally with our kids in some giant house somewhere is kind of appealing... You know, like a pride of lioness or Kate & Allie or The Red Tent or something...those Biblical broads knew what they were doing, right? We could share all the chores and roles and responsibilities -- S
use would be household manager, and Nancy is kind of handy around the house, and Amber is extra anal about the bills, and Gwen cleans and scrubs like no other, and I love to cook...and while Dana keeps us all on schedule, Sam can be in charge of cocktail hour, Chris can organize the exercise regimen and Susan can make sure we are up to date on all the Hollywood gossip...perfect! And you know, there would be the added benefit of increasing our wardrobe selections exponentially. We would fill our DVD collections with Terms of Endearment and The Joy Luck Club and Beaches and maybe some horror selections for Gwen...and we could stock the freezer with Haagen-Daz and Ben & Jerry's and Sara Lee for the inevitable cry-fest...And we would all multi-task all the time...every little project would be completed before it was even started....
It would be our very own progesterone crack-den....
But eventually we might run into trouble...I mean, we may become progesterone junkies, getting all itchy and
scratchy and belligerent for our next Girl Talk fix...we'll start acting like a room full of lawyers, all defensive and one-upping and paranoid...which will just set off another allergic reaction masquerading as swine flu. Eventually we might get kind of lax...even lose interest in looking pretty...toss our makeup bags, let our roots show and our waxings go too long (ok, that I won't do...)...and maybe we'll start wearing nondescript, boxy, mannish fashions and George Costanza-esque, elastic-waisted sweats...and by then it'll be too late to call Candy Finnigan for an Intervention. Worst of all we may get tired of all the bonding so we won't want to go out and sample the social scene and meet new people and wink 
at deliverymen and giggle with aging guidos and yell each others' ages at the top of our lungs and listen to each others' stories and support one another through thick and thin... everything that makes being together with our girlfriends so much fun and fresh and new and exciting and, well...progesterone activating. Just like yummy delicious first love butterflies.
So boys...even though most women can kick your a** in a mulching competition (by the way, the guys moving my new neighbors into their house called out to me as I hauled those giant bags all over the yard: "Hey lady, you strong...want a job?!..."), and we can look cute and sassy while doing so, I will admit it...we ladies do like having you in our lives. And even though we can list no less than 75 habits you have and things you do
that we would be thrilled to never see or hear of again in this lifetime, we would miss you if you weren't there all the time...
I can get it at this point... Anyway, he was where he is supposed to be, in his room with his brother, and I lay beneath a mammoth weight of fabric -- two Stonehill College-logoed blankets, my Ralph Lauren comforter, a cotton quilt and a top sheet. Also, I was wearing a full-on long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants (not pretty J. Crew lounge-wear, as is my habit... no, no -- these were baggy George Costanza-esque, elastic-waisted sweatpants...). Mmmmm, luscious and sexy, right? Yeah, maybe not. Hot though, that's for sure...and not in the good way.Ok, so maybe I covered myself and hunkered down in bed last night by 8:45 and layered all these items atop of me in hopes of sweating out this swine flu or whatever it is that has gripped my bronchial tubes...and I think it worked a little...because here I sit, in my office, Purell bottle at my side, trying to pretend I am not the one who is coughing...though there are only four of us sitting here in very close quarters. I know, I know...I am that jerk who comes to the office even though I know I am under the weather...the one everyone b*tches about, touching the phones and the copier and the file cabinets. But it's the German in me...you know, because I hate appearing weak, and I promised I would be here, and I don't like to divert from plan or let anyone down...I hate when people are mad at me or have to take on extra work because I am being a big wimpy little baby with my 100 degree fever...Yet, I am fully aware that if they all end up with this bronchial scratchiness and headachey malaise, they will be sick and pissed...lethal combo. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Gwen is freaking out just reading this, breaking out her Clorox and pouring it all over her desk even though she is sitting safely in an office miles across the Hudson River from me...
Honestly though...I am almost 100% certain I am not contagious...and I am pretty sure it's not viral...no, this affliction is unique to me, I believe....I swear my body is having an adverse reaction to all these lawyers in the office... Yes, the constant twist-talking and delaying of the process and marathon safeguarding and cover your a** games of the esquire can be wearing, no? Makes me want to put my head down on my desk and tune the hell out.... Oh come on, my la
wyerly friends and family members out there...You know I love you all and fully enjoy the time I spend with you...but let's be honest (and I can say this because I am perfect) even you lovely darlings can be a teensy weensy bit, ever so slightly argumentative on occasion. Just saying....(please don't sue me...).So thankfully this little malady struck me this week...good timing because the family trip to Bermuda approaches and I have way too much fun to have down there to be sickly and cranky. Aside from that I might have missed out on some good times my girlfriends and I embarked on these past two weeks. First there was Greek Night on my deck with the gourmet posse...we scarfed all that Mediterranean deliciousnes
s and I cracked out a pretty kicka** baklava...and if that doesn't make a group of women swoon, I don't know what does. Then, it was Gwen's birthday a few weeks back so the succession of celebrations were in order...dinner this past Saturday with Gwen and Sam...batting our eyes at the extra tall and flirty off-duty police officer/deliveryman as we awaited seating...Sam all shocked that Gwen was turning the (not old) age she has: "You're --?!" she repeated over and over again at the top of her lungs, everyone turning to look as Gwen blushed. I asked the hostess for a microphone so the folks in the dining room could hear too...she just gave me a puzzled look. Then after dinner we hit Pane e Vino, entertaining a pair of aging guidos who continued to chat 
with us even as we offered snarky replies to their genuinely nice questions (just an aside...I think that aging guidos have become de facto fans of mine due to this crazy nest of uncontrollable waves and curls that I have sprouted this past year...I think it is a throwback to the mallrat era of the '80's...they think I am one of them!!). So the three of us did not stop laughing all night...I love that. Also in celebration of Gwen the week prior, a bunch of us hung on Nancy's sofa, the monsoon season forcing us inside...we had mojitos an
d grilled pizza's by Tim...and we touched on all the girl subjects: kids, food, men, sex, work, clothes, makeup, lipgloss, hairdressers, shopping....I could go on. And it was there that Susan brought up a new scientific study that had been reported on...and the findings essentially proved what we have been saying all along: Girl talk is good for you.Did I need a study to tell me this? Not really, but thanks, Science, for giving me even more reasons to hang with my besties. I am kind of dependent on interacting with my girls and in addition to daily phone calls with Suse and hours mulling details with Allison or Cath and monthly gourmet dinnering and Church Lady drinkfests, A
mber and I have taken to scheduling Sunday coffee breaks weeks in advance just so we know we will get our fix (of each other...). And Rob is beyond questioning it...this has been a long-standing theme in our relationship...I went to all-girls school, so this sisterhood thing is just part of me at this point. But the study explained why women bond so tightly to one another...when partaking in an emotionally close task, such as sharing their secrets and intimate thoughts, women release progesterone, an indicator for Oxytocin (that delicious little brain chemical that is 
also released when one is experiencing new love...yum...). And as a result of all this hormonal stuff going on, it is shown that the release of progesterone due to social bonding enables women to put the well-being of their friends ahead of their own interests.And that is exactly how I feel. In a second I would give up the last pair of shoes in my size if one of the girls was dying to own them (this proclamation is made easier by the fact that my feet are at least a size and a half smaller than the next smallest...)...and I would leave an important meeting to take an SOS call from any one of them, even if it was just an update on the current state of the Jolie-Pitts marriage...and I would even share my secret
recipe for that cheesy onion-y slop that they all clamor for...(or they could just buy the Grace Nursery Cookbook and get it there...).You know, Nancy, Amber and I have always joked that we could do anything together...plan events, run companies, raise families, develop products (Winter's Dawn!). And of course, we love our men with all of our hearts, but the concept of we ladies all living communally with our kids in some giant house somewhere is kind of appealing... You know, like a pride of lioness or Kate & Allie or The Red Tent or something...those Biblical broads knew what they were doing, right? We could share all the chores and roles and responsibilities -- S
use would be household manager, and Nancy is kind of handy around the house, and Amber is extra anal about the bills, and Gwen cleans and scrubs like no other, and I love to cook...and while Dana keeps us all on schedule, Sam can be in charge of cocktail hour, Chris can organize the exercise regimen and Susan can make sure we are up to date on all the Hollywood gossip...perfect! And you know, there would be the added benefit of increasing our wardrobe selections exponentially. We would fill our DVD collections with Terms of Endearment and The Joy Luck Club and Beaches and maybe some horror selections for Gwen...and we could stock the freezer with Haagen-Daz and Ben & Jerry's and Sara Lee for the inevitable cry-fest...And we would all multi-task all the time...every little project would be completed before it was even started....It would be our very own progesterone crack-den....
But eventually we might run into trouble...I mean, we may become progesterone junkies, getting all itchy and
scratchy and belligerent for our next Girl Talk fix...we'll start acting like a room full of lawyers, all defensive and one-upping and paranoid...which will just set off another allergic reaction masquerading as swine flu. Eventually we might get kind of lax...even lose interest in looking pretty...toss our makeup bags, let our roots show and our waxings go too long (ok, that I won't do...)...and maybe we'll start wearing nondescript, boxy, mannish fashions and George Costanza-esque, elastic-waisted sweats...and by then it'll be too late to call Candy Finnigan for an Intervention. Worst of all we may get tired of all the bonding so we won't want to go out and sample the social scene and meet new people and wink 
at deliverymen and giggle with aging guidos and yell each others' ages at the top of our lungs and listen to each others' stories and support one another through thick and thin... everything that makes being together with our girlfriends so much fun and fresh and new and exciting and, well...progesterone activating. Just like yummy delicious first love butterflies.So boys...even though most women can kick your a** in a mulching competition (by the way, the guys moving my new neighbors into their house called out to me as I hauled those giant bags all over the yard: "Hey lady, you strong...want a job?!..."), and we can look cute and sassy while doing so, I will admit it...we ladies do like having you in our lives. And even though we can list no less than 75 habits you have and things you do
that we would be thrilled to never see or hear of again in this lifetime, we would miss you if you weren't there all the time...Well, maybe "all the time" is a stretch....
Hey girls, how soon can we plan a Cocktail Hour??? Girls only, ok...I am totally jonesing for a progesterone fix....Hey, maybe that's what's making me cough....
Lots of hugs and germy kisses...to you boys too...
xo Suz
Photo 1: Oh, well look...that woman is also dying from overexposure to lawyers....(please don't sue me...)
Photo 2: Sticky and flaky baklava...even better for breakfast, right Sam?
Photo 3: Gwen, Sam and I...harrassing aging guidos for sport...my hair kind of tame there.
Photo 4: Mmmmm...delicious combo, Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade and Gwen's 7-layer chocolate birthday cake...apparently no men around for miles...My hair reaching an epic level of wild curly mess...
Photo 5: Amber and Gwen...bonding over pie on Longboat Key...progesterone rising...
Photo 6: Me and Mary at the Cookies and Cocktails fest this winter...I can feel it...the progesterone is starting to boil...
Photo 7: Four days alone chatting and bonding with Suse on Longboat Key this March...we have hit progesterone frenzy...
Photo 8: Me and a selection of my Holy Angels posse...progesterone bubbling over....
Photo 9: Pina, Dana, Nancy and Amber and our all-girls birthday bash in March...ok, now the progesterone levels are getting dangerous....
Photo 10: And we are beyond repair as we live communally and become androgynous progesterone crackies...I think I am the one with the necktie...
Photo 11: Costanza...not far off from the typical American male and the darling men in our lives...
Photo 12: In recovery....but relapsing...we just can't stay away....
4 comments:
I LIVEEEEE for girl talk! I agree that there is just something about it that makes everything -- even the dreaded swine! -- feel like a healthy million bucks... or closet of reva flats and totes and clutches and beyond!
Looking forward to our girl talk tonight! xo
I've been spending more and more time with the girls lately and this explains that nice little high that keeps me going back...
Great post! Thanks for the daily girl talk fix!
God i look disgusting. I need to provide you with stock footage so you can just post that pic.Loved this week's installation!
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