Hubby and I discussed moving back out east where he is from, and I was actually liking the idea. I love the east coast. I don't miss living in NYC, but I do miss the surrounding states.
A big part of the reason I want to move out east is because I have a very good friend that lives in Boston. I met her when I was working at a trendy tourist restaraunt in the Village. She was this spunky, beautiful girl with the most amazing personality. I don't think she has a mean bone in her body unless she is joking around. You know the type of friend who just clicks with you and you automatically feel comfortable and secure? Well, that is her. She's awesome.
It sucks that we live so many miles apart. It'd be great to just call her up and meet for lunch or coffee, or ICE CREAM. She'd be a great surrogate mom to Miss P. I know Miss P will adore her when she meets her.
My friend was just really on my mind this morning. She and I would try to get into trouble by being loud and obnoxious or by just doing silly things. I went out to visit her for Halloween a few years ago. We bought tickets to a witch's ball in Salem, Mass and planned to just get freaked out. It was pretty cool - and we did get freaked out.
When we first arrived we were starving, and the invite said they'd have finger food. We pigged out on the appetizers and drank a few glasses of red wine. The witches came in and set up the evening making us feel like we were really part of Hogwarts or something. We then had to walk into this room under a trellis of dried chicken feet on red yarn. They asked if we wanted one. Hell, yes! I think we had the same thought running through our heads: that an ugly dried chicken foot will make the perfect practical joke at some point in time during my visit.
Anyhow, we tried to conceal our laughter through the whole event. I, of course, was trying to be serious, and she, of course, was making fun of everything the witch said. I was peeing my pants. Then at the end of the thing he "initiated" us into the coven...or whatever they called it. We had to go up and get ashes on our foreheads - they were of a cross. When we looked at each other we weren't laughing anymore, we were truly scared. SO scared we had to drink another glass of red wine. ha!
Well, the next day we felt kind of rough and decided to get out for breakfast and enjoy the fresh air. That is when we realized we had those chicken feet. One ended up hanging from a tree in front of her condo building and the other was left on a subway seat on the T (T or L? I can't remember what is in Boston). It was hysterical to see people's faces as they rushed to sit in what they thought was a vacant seat. So many people went to sit on the foot and then would get a look of sheer horror as they tried to figure out what it was. I am telling you, dried chicken feet are damn ugly. Just google it, you'll see.
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