Carrie Bradshaw goes to Chicago streetfest

That's how I felt, like Carrie Bradshaw. I am not glamorous and when thinking of the most fashion conscious person they know, I do not appear first in the minds of my friends. Tonight, though, I felt like my resale store shoes were Jimmy Choos amid the freaky wierd get ups I saw on the oddest group of people I'd been surrounded by since that Renaissance festival I went to in the 80's.

I'm house sitting for a friend, who lives in one of the hippest neighborhoods of our city, two more friends are keeping me company. We're treating it like a vacation in our own city. We began with a bottle of wine at the house last night and then out for a couple martinis on a sidewalk patio. We ended the night eating cheddar cheese fries and char broiled hotdogs at the legendary Weiner Circle. Today started with brunch at a hip corner restauarant, my shoulders carry the color of the time it takes to eat lemon ricotta pancakes with a mimosa. We shopped in a bargain driven frenzie for two hours at a shoe outlet store where 7 pairs of shoes and a few more accessories were purchased between the three of us. Margaritas on another sidewalk (Nicole tried to order a white zinfandel and a martini but was scolded by the server for not recognizing the personality of the taco bar as one that would never serve such poor excuses for beverages).

In our new shoes and still rosy cheeks from the taco bar margaritas we headed out to see a favorite band of Dora's play at a local streetfest. I was bored by the description of the band before I ever even heard them. "Fun" and "happy" were used a lot. They were the kind of happy you see in couples that makes you wonder how miserable they are behind the smiles. What is wrong with this band...NO ONE is that happy. This guy has got to be a manic depressive. He frockiled on stage in his baggy blouse and floppy cowboy hat like Peter Pan. The people surrounding us were really odd, most wore flip flops, t shirts and other street fest t shirts. When I asked Nicole if she agreed that the crowd wa odd she said, "oh yea, streetfests always attract freaks. I don't know where they all are before they get here. I don't see people like this on a regular basis."
A young man in front of us danced his awkward ass off and the people with him held their hands above him as if giving him thier version of a dancer's high five. I imagined somewhere at a suburban home were his friends playing Dungeons and Dragons when one asks, "hey, where's Ben tonight?" Another answers, he's at a street fest in the city for a Why Store concert, the lucky son of a bitch. He's probably dancing his ass off right now getting all kinds of hot women."
"Yea," adds another friend, "he's a really good dancer." They all nod in jealous agreement.
A drunken girl is carried off by her boyfriend through the crowd.
A young man removes his shirt in front of us then squats to the street and pukes. He looses the friend he just made ten minutes ago and we move to a new area.
Dora does not want to leave yet. She dances and an odd young man sidles up to her and entertains a fantasy that she is with him while he imitates dance next to her. Why Store keeps singing happy music, one song blending into the next. The best thirty seconds occur when the lead singer inserts a few lines of Jim Morrison into his own lame repetitive music. I text a friend who is obviously doing something so much more interesting because I never receive a return text. Ohhhhh the humanity.
Why did I wear sandals? Beer splashes from tipping cups onto my toes, discarded aluminum and plastic jump around at our feet and scents of pechuli and stale breath waft around us.
The band finally ends its charade of bliss, the crowd ignorantly begs and encore and we make our way out of the crowd. I tell myself what a great blog post this will make.
On our way back to the house the cab drives us through a movie setting of Johnny Depp's latest film and finally I am entertained.

Foundation Friends

A couple nights ago I met with three friends that I have known since grade school. We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same high school, swam on the same swim teams and worked at the same swim and tennis club together. We've managed to maintain our friendship as adults and I treasure these women like no other friends. I'm writing this blog because one of them mentioned that she hadn't seen any recent posts from me. So Donna, this one's for you!

I love these women like sisters, having no sisters I can only imagine that this is true but I feel it must be. When we get together the four of us giggle like the girls we were when we first met. We remember every embarrassing moment of growth that we shared and forgive all adolescent mistakes. I love them for remembering things I have forgotten and for forgetting things I can't seem to forget myself.

When I see them I can't believe it was thirty years ago that we first flirted with boys. We played dunk in the pool with boys we had crushes on hoping that the cutest boy of all would pick us to lift and dunk mercilessly until chlorinated snot ran uncontrollably out of our noses. In high school we fought over which member of The Police would be our boyfriend, we all wanted Sting and no one wanted Andy Summers. "Ewwww! He looks so old!" In college we each attended a different school but, even without the Internet, managed to keep in touch through mail, phone and spring break visits. We talked each other through good and bad break ups, diets and final exams.

As young adults Heather was the only person brave enough to tell me I was making a mistake by marrying my first boyfriend. Donna was the only person I felt comfortable enough admitting that I didn't actually want to marry him. Jen may have been the first to high - five me when the engagement was over. (Donna was definitely the first to high - five me when she met the basketball player that helped distract me from the engagement!)

Heather was there to help me shop for the wedding dress that I wore when I eloped. All were there for me even when, most especially when, my parents would not approve of my marrying outside my race. I cried to them when I couldn't conceive and they were most sensitive to it when they became pregnant. Heather shares her little boy with me like I am another aunt and last year when I held him as he slapped the water in her parents' back yard pool I laughed with delight and said, "Oh Heather! Thank you so much for having this baby for me!" She laughed right back. She knew just what I meant.

All have been there for me through every step of my divorce, never judging, never preaching, always listening and offering laughter and a glass of wine when I need it most.

Donna and I argued at breakfast the other day. In high school the bad feelings may have lasted for days, in present day they lasted only moments.

I once was trying to describe to Heather's boyfriend how I felt about these three women and he put it so appropriately, "of course, they are your foundation friends!"

Donna, Heather and Jen: you are my dearest friends. I love you so much, I hope you know it and feel it the same way I do. I cannot wait until the next time we polish off 3...4? bottles of wine together!