Thank you for being a friend

What up, tricks? Happy Friday. I'm so glad the weekend is finally here. I don't have too much on my agenda except work and more work and maybe a little girl time Saturday night.

Which brings me to this. (Actually no, the above statements did not "bring me to this," but I've fully established on here that transitions? Not my thing.)

Sometimes when Every time Erin, Amy, and I hang out, our talk inevitably turns to "The Golden Girls" and our plans to one day live together in a house near the beach. This house will definitely have a lanai, whatever that is, because the lanai is where all serious and healing heart-to-hearts take place. Plus, we can hose down the floor if we spill our red wine. Lanais are tiled. I think.



This is how I imagine we'll look: totally amazing. These grannies just don't care what anyone thinks, and that's a goal my friends and I will have reached by age 75. Only I'm going to look 60 because Botox is my friend.

We don't really have a Sophia in our group, so I think we should hold auditions soon. Those with an aversion to cheesecake need not apply. Everyone knows you can't solve any world problems or old-lady dating woes if you're not eating cheesecake on that lanai. (Or, for those of you in my circle, cheese steak. From the cart outside Nana Funk's. Boom.)

(I found this picture online somewhere. I should really know where so I can give someone some credit, but, well—I don't so I can't.)