Saturday night, I left the baby with Dave and met up with Cara for dinner and drinks. (And dessert. Way too many calories, but oh so yummy.) I don’t think we’d ever hung out together without our respective significant others, so that was very cool to have some girl time and talk about all the stuff we can’t write about on our blogs. In my case, this meant getting to freely use the f-word, which I try never to do here because my dad knows that this website exists, and oh lord I do not need that phone call.
And it was very sweet of Cara to not cancel on me, since Scott’s grandmother had just died and they were going to be taking a flight out of Seattle about 4 hours after she and I met up. I would’ve totally canceled if it had been me, but I’m a wuss like that. Anyway, it was great fun and nice to have some baby-free time.
True story that is totally unrelated to anything: recently when Cate and I were out for one of our evening walks, we ran into two of our neighbors, who were out riding their horses. This isn’t a rare occurrence; so many people around here have horses, to see them trekking up and down the street with the regular traffic isn’t at all unusual.
Anyway, they stopped to say hi to the baby and to let Cate get all excited about seeing the horses up close. (She did her happy foot-kick for them.) They were very friendly and nice, but I noticed that both ladies had a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. They would alternate which hand was holding the horse’s reins depending on what they needed to accomplish. Horseback riding, smoking a Marlboro, and swigging a bottle of Corona? Wow. That is multi-tasking at its finest right there.
When we got home, I told Dave that this is another reason we need to move. I am clearly not nearly bad-ass enough to hang with the women of Duvall. And you know what? I am totally okay with that fact.