Tuesday, November 11

Girls Weekend

"Camp for the elderly, that's what it is."
The remark from my cheeky sixteen-year-old neighbor was met with disdain.
"We're not elderly," said his mother.
He laughed.
"What do you think you guys are going to do?"
We didn't reply.
We knew nothing we said could change the fact he thought we'd sip Geritol, watch a
few minutes of Lawrence Welk, and be in bed by seven--
even though all ten of us were only forty-something.

Bet he never thought we'd be mattress surfing at 2 a.m.

If it was good enough for Mia and her friends

it was good enough for us, "the elderly."

Julie Andrews would have been proud.

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