Ladies Night

"All the girls walk by, dressed up for each other"

Van Morrison, Wild Night

The afternoon of Peggy's funeral, an email went around from one of my girlfriends that suggested the institution of a regular girl's night out, instead of waiting for someone's birthday or other special occasion to get together. The inaugural "Ladies Night" was last night ( I love to say "Ladies Night", because it immediately cues the cheesy disco song of the same name in the mental muzak player—no, don't thank me; it's my gift to you for the rest of the day).

In honor of the event, I wore my Superhero Necklace. We met on the back deck of a neighborhood pizza joint. There were about eight of us in all, a salad-eatin', check-splittin' chickfest of love.

Through the years, I have been blessed with great girlfriends. But I didn't know how to be one until my thirties. When I was (a lot) younger, I'd drop any girlfriend for a guy, sometimes their guy (if this happened to you, I am so sorry; you were much too good for him anyway). Even today, I worry I am more of a taker than a giver in my female friendships. I am not so good about remembering birthdays, or initiating get-togethers, or even chitchatting on the phone. Sometimes it seems like all I do is show up.

But when I do, I am all there. Not there merely on a layover to something else, not there tossing my empty head around wondering where the boys are, not sitting there plotting how to get with someone's sorry-ass boyfriend. Getting dressed last night (on a day my I Ching reading aptly brought up the symbols for Critical Mass and Exhaustion) I felt my spirits lift with anticipation, the way I used to feel getting ready for a date. I did my hair, I put on jewelry, I hummed. You'd have thought I was going out with someone really special.

And you would be exactly right.