Tag Archives: women friends



My good friend Meshka sent me this e-card. She said that when she saw it, it totally reminded her of some of our conversations, and she absolutely HAD to share it with me.

And the thing is, she’s right. She and I do have some of the craziest, funniest, most interesting conversations ever. When we’re sober. It’s about eleventy-million times crazier, funnier and more interesting when we have had a glass of wine each. (We are both tremendous lightweights, so one glass pretty much sends us over the edge.)

The other thing is, I have conversations like that with BFJ too. And she and I have been having these conversations for 34 years now. You would think that we would have nothing left to say to each other by this point, but no. We seem to keep finding more topics to discuss. And we laugh and laugh and laugh. We actually went out for lunch with our daughters three weeks ago and we had to go hide in the bathroom, just the two of us, to laugh till the tears fell. We just HAD to. We were embarrassing our daughters at the table.

And another good friend, R! Holy CRAP, do R and I have conversations! At the speed of light, we veer from debating which is the better colour, pink or yellow, to why the hell her husband would give her a raw potato in her lunch bag, to the merits of the glorious multi-coloured rubber cowboy boots that she found in Texas on vacation one year (all completely true stories, by the way. Do you see those boots???).photo I don’t see her quite as often as I’d like to these days, but I sure do enjoy talking and laughing with her when we do get together.

Then there’s PG. One of the things that first attracted me about him was his amazing ability to converse with absolutely anybody at absolutely any time – and make them laugh. I am not kidding. I keep a file of “PG-isms” on my phone, a list of some of the weird things he has said that have tickled my funnybone over the years. Of course they are taken completely out of context, but to me, that makes them all the more hysterical. Gems such as: “If the bear kills you, you’re dead” and “To eat, you need to destroy” and “Do you really want to hit this temple of bad-ass that I’m gonna open up on you?”. Honestly, when I’m ancient and on my death bed, I expect to die laughing with this guy right beside me.

And the conversations that DD and I have are very often side-splittingly funny too. She and I have spent quite a bit of time together over the years (I am her mother, after all), and we have had a fair number of conversations. The best ones are usually when we are travelling, and often occur when we are ensconced in our hotel room for the night and can safely mock all the people with whom we came into contact during the day. In fact, DD once wrote a manual on how to travel with me, which she presented to PG the first time he and I went to Vegas together. I remember sitting in the airport, the two of us reading it, and both of us just howling with laughter. It was all incredibly funny because it was all incredibly TRUE! For example, some of her advice was:
“Eat as much breakfast as possible as quickly as possible. Sustenance is needed. Statistically, you have until the end of Pinklea’s second cup of Hot Beverage (generally café au lait) to accomplish this.”
“Waiting for the pedestrian light is not a part of Pinklea’s routine behaviour. Adapt.”
“The guidebook provokes extreme antisocial tendencies in Pinklea. Do not place yourself between the two.”
“Pictures are to be taken sparingly and efficiently, by Pinklea standards. Mocking those who choose to take pictures when Pinklea has no intention of turning on her camera is another good bonding initiative.”

So yeah, hilariousness. I seem to have surrounded myself with it. And that’s good, because I like to laugh. Even at myself. Apparently.


I haven’t felt much like posting lately. I don’t exactly know why, but I’ve been wandering through my life lately without the urge to record any of it for posterity. I’ve been doing things, sure, but nothing has really seemed blogworthy. I feel like I have to apologize to you for my boring life!

I did have a downtown spa date with BFJ this past weekend. We had a lovely hotel room, a lovely pre-dinner bottle of bubbly, a lovely dinner with more lovely drinks, a lovely shopping experience, a lovely sleep, a lovely (and expensive! Wow! Do fancy hotels ever gouge you for the privilege of eating breakfast in their dining rooms!) breakfast the next morning, then a lovely massage and facial (me) and a lovely massage and pedicure (her). We mostly had a lovely visit with the usual amounts of riotous laughter – most rejuvenating!

And we had an unexpected visitor to our 11th floor room:IMG_0430

This guy scared the shit out of us when he swooped in and landed on the windowsill, and then he just sat there for something like fifteen minutes. He cocked his little head from one side to the other, probably trying to see what we were doing in there and wondering when we were going to open the stupid window and feed him. (We didn’t.) Both BJF and I took loads of photos and texted them to everyone we thought might appreciate a photo of a persistent and photogenic seagull on a hotel window ledge.

And that ridiculous seagull made me feel like writing a blog post again.


La%C3%A7o+rosaIt’s October again. Breast cancer awareness month again.

And again, another of my circle of friends has been diagnosed with breast cancer.

Shit. Again.

Now, I realize that my age has something to do with this. I am 55, and the vast majority of my friends are around that age too. According to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, of all the Canadian women who will be diagnosed with breast cancer in 2013, an estimated 82% of them will be over 50 years of age, leaving the other 18% to be under 50. The odds are heavily stacked in favour (“Favour”? Odd choice of word when we’re talking cancer, don’t you think?) of us middle-aged and older women being the ones who get this disease, rather than those under 40.

The good news in those statistics, though, is that the overall five-year survival rate for those women who have breast cancer is 88%. That percentage is increasing every year, and the actual incidence of breast cancer amongst Canadian women is decreasing a little every year. Diagnosis gets better and more efficient every year, as does treatment.

But statistics don’t always tell the story. Not when this is the fifth one of my friends to be diagnosed with breast cancer in the past six years. The FIFTH! I find this mind-boggling and am struggling to wrap my mind around it all. The FIFTH! How does this even happen?

But happen it did. Again.

My other four friends have all beaten the disease into submission. Yes, it may come back, and that is something they (and those of us who love them) have to live with. But all four women are healthy and strong and cancer-free today.

So I have to have faith that my fifth friend will also wage a successful war against her cancer, and that she too will soon be healthy and strong and cancer-free. Again.