|1981...not really sure what's going on here|
|2011...we don't lie together on the floor anymore, intentionally.|
|two of the three dearest friends I'll ever have no matter how old I get|
|Debris with grits at Mothers...that's exactly what you need after a night out on the town. |
It soaks up everything.
|gittin' our mudbug on|
|Brennans' Eggs Shannon. Trout and creamed spinach with a hint of nutmeg. Now that's brunch|
|oysters on the grill, as you do in new orleans|
|room with a view|
|hurricanes at 1am|
|beignets and coffee at 3am|
The reunion continues on Facebook this week as we reminisce about our reminiscences. Those who couldn’t attend post desperate entreaties to “tag” people because nobody’s recognizable in the pictures. Life has been good to most of us and we look durn good, but maybe not enough like our 18 year old selves to be easily identified in a still photo. In person it came slowly, but with animation we would break into smiles as the 18 year olds in us emerged and passed over our faces fleetingly. A kiss on the cheek, a gentle embrace, kind words. Smart, cultured, warm and genteel people. I am looking forward to the 35th already, but first I've got to see about getting rid of this pesky liver.
|Mollie requests the waiter not set her hair on fire|
|He obliges...voila, bananas foster|