I woke up feeling a little sheepish. I think I kicked The Professor out of her chair and demanded that I be allowed to play euchre,* and of course the agave plant is to blame for me being so insistent. (Sorry) Who knew that this little gathering of women, wait, strike that, this little gathering of incredible, accomplished, and infinitely patient group of women boasted so many ex-biker chicks? Rachel is an animal. Even I can’t slam a shot, lick salt from my hand, and bite a lime while careening down a slope on a four-wheeler. Humbling, let me tell you. Ivy too, was scary as all get out, but I enjoyed watching her make her hula girl tattoo dance a bit. I thought it was cool that The Lynnster felt comfortable enough with us to sleep sitting straight up at the dinner table. NM treated me so nice, even after I drunkenly snatched her hat off her head and strutted around with it. An amazing group.
Food, my God was there food. There were tamales, fake tamales, mac n cheese, discarded Mothership veggies, chicken breasts, fruit bats, breakfast cereals, and every sweet thing on the planet. Someone paid homage to my ancestry and made honest to God fry bread. People brought tequila. I remember that. I didn’t wash a dish, did I mention that?
I really enjoyed meeting everyone. Aunt B has an amazing circle of friends, and I was thankful that so many showed up yesterday to eat, drink, and laugh. Truly, B, you are richer for these friendships.
* I want it on record that I completely kicked Coble’s ass at euchre, even though I had to carry my partner. I’ll be checking her blog later for the inevitable excuses.