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22nd Annual Girls Weekend – In The History Books!

There is NOTHING like Best Friends time. Though our annual weekends morphed into five day events, we still say Girls Weekend because, really, The Annual Girls Five-Day Extravaganza is a mouthful.


We converged on our lovely vacation rental in Chatham, Cape Cod, by mid-afternoon, hugs and kisses all around. By 5:00 we had toured the grounds, assigned beds, tossed clothes into drawers or onto hangers, and were talking dinner. The only thing we like more than talking is eating, so we talk about eating a lot. We headed downtown and ate outside casual at The Captain’s Table.

Captain's Table

Then we hit the Stop&Shop. Hard. Breakfast staples and mixers were just an excuse to buy Hershey bars, Hershey minis, chocolate covered almonds, and chocolate chip cookies. Because chocolate pairs perfectly with Grey Goose & Cranberry, and/or white wine. We returned to the house to talk, talk, talk. Lots of catching up to do – besides, who could sleep after all that chocolate?


We awoke early, rotated five of us through the lone shower (second shower broken!), then drove to the ferry for a wind-smacked 80 minute express ride to Nantucket Island. Okay, Julie, Laura, and Lori enjoyed the wind-smacking; Jo and I stayed inside because, you know: hair.  On the island, we ate wonderful food, walked for miles, drooped in the extreme heat, and grabbed an early ferry home. I made the spaghetti dinner solely to get out of clean up. Worked like a charm. Another evening of eating and drinking in jammies until bedtime. Perfection.

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Saturday we slept in, then moseyed down to the Chatham harbor to watch the seals. I have 100 pictures of seals, but I’ll subject you only to a few.

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Then The Girls indulged me while I visited Where the Sidewalk Ends and got the manager’s contact info to set up a Stella Rose event – fingers crossed! We had lunch at Bistro on Main (YUM!), then power shopped. We returned to the house early to begin our ministrations for the Main Event.


About the Main Event: Every year eat fine food, then find a (dive) bar that plays music we know, and we dance our asses off. This year we found a Bon Jovi cover band, Living On A Bad Name, playing at the famous Sundancers. Oh, it was EPIC. (Note to LOABN: Your foray into Boys of Summer … stick to Bon Jovi.)

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Sunday was Beach Day – YAY!! Who’s lucky enough to get five days of sunshine and 80+ weather on the Cape the last week in August? We are!! The waves were stupendous, knocking us down and plying us with sand in every crevice. The highlight of Beach Day was our inept attempt to FaceTime our two besties who couldn’t come this year. The connection was lousy, but we did catch glimpses of Angela’s lovely face and heard Dawn muttering epithets at her iPhone; they saw Laura’s cleavage.


Our last night, Jo taught us a new card game called ‘31.’ We had been drinking just a little before she pulled out the cards, so it took us a while to get the hang of it, but once we did, we were fierce. Not saying Laura sucks at cards, but she was the first one ‘out’ in each game. This is when she warned us she was a poor loser. Funny thing about best friends – we loved her even more, the pissier she got. Lori won both hands, so she’s officially the card shark. To her credit, she was a much better winner than Laura was a loser, which was impressive. Deep down inside, the rest of us knew we would have been a teensy bit Trumpish. #Winning.


The last morning is always tough. Anxious to get on the road for long trips home, we have already made the psychic break from the weekend, already half-way home in our minds. But the physical parting, with all the hugs and love-yous, always makes me misty. We’re pretty efficient at it, none of us lingers, but our hearts are a little sore as we climb into cars. We all carpool, so we can stretch it a bit further until that final good-bye to our car-mates.


Then I’m trundling bags into my house, greeting my frenzied dog, my indifferent cats, and my handsome husband, already missing The Girls sweetly, already looking forward to next year.

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