Pajama Party

The childhood friends Beth and Mere drove down this weekend to hang out in my wee abode. It was such a treat. Normally, they’re the ones who host me – when I come home – and so it is always cool to be able to return the favor. Even though my apartment is the size of, perhaps, Beth’s kitchen – it feels very good to be able to open up the joint, and have people over. One of the simplest pleasures in life. We did miss having Betsy with us … The last “pajama party” I hosted was with Beth and Betsy – but perhaps this can become a bi-annual thing or something. A road trip taken by the old childhood friends. It pleases me so much to have guests!

Here is a moment which pretty much encapsulates the weekend:

We spent the afternoon on Saturday browsing to our hearts content through the open-air Christmas market in Union Square. I had really wanted to take them there, because it is quite special, and we had a blast. It was packed. Beth, at one point, said, “Could everyone else please go home, because I really would like to browse in peace?” It was lovely. Many gifts bought … for kids, for husbands, for fathers-in-law … It wasn’t too bitter cold either. Afterwards, we walked across town with our booty. It had been a highly successful shopping venture. We were going to do some more window-shopping in the rich atmosphere of Greenwich Village. It was 5.30 pm. Okay? 5:30. It’s dark by 5:30 now – so it felt (to us) much later.

I said, randomly, as we strolled along 18th street – “Okay … so here are our choices. We can continue on downtown and shop a bit more in the Village.”

Beth and Mere nod agreeably. “Sounds great!”

I continued. “OR – we can buy some wine, go home, get into our pajamas, and hang out and do Mad Libs.”

There was a pause and they both said, “Uh … let’s totally do that second one.”

heh heh heh

One of the beautiful things about the childhood friends is that it is never about WHAT you do, what activities … and it is always about the quality of time spent. Mere and Beth have known one another since they were 6 years old. I met the two of them when we were all 12 years old. They are “eternal” friends. Even an entire continent couldn’t separate that bond. We can NOT speak for months at a time, and then in one phone conversation that lasts 20 minutes, we catch up completely. We have a shorthand. We don’t have to warm up to closeness again. It’s there. Already. I am constantly grateful for these dear friends. They knew me when. We went through junior high school together. We went through high school together. The raw-est times of our lives. (Or, maybe not the “raw-est” but there is certainly something very specific and very unforgettable about the “raw-ness” of early puberty. It is good to have friends who remember you from that time, and who also have segued with you into adulthood.) There they were, and there I was.

This kind of friendship is rarer than the most precious jewel.

So basically – we did a bit of grocery shopping, for the snacks, for the wine, came home, got into our pajamas, and talked the night away. (Translation … until 11 pm when we all got sleepy at the same moment, and fell asleep instantly). Sadly, there were no Mad Libs because the line at Barnes and Noble was about 3 miles long. But that didn’t matter. We don’t need to “entertain” each other. We just can BE.

Mere showed us (in a mildly drunken way) some of the tips from her self-defense class. Using Beth as a model. Beth, in effect, became the rapist, or the murderer. And Mere was SUCH a ninja bad-ass! Elbowing Beth in the nose, karate-chopping her in the back, kneeing her in the “balls” – all as Beth was shrieking and panicking – and all as I was laughing my ass off and taking photos of the entire event. It was hysterical.

I did an imitation of Rory-the-Irish-Man trying to tiptoe quietly through the foyer, and then falling flat on his ass. Where he landed in a position that made him look like he was doing a gymnastics floor exercise. Or I call it the “frozen on the pommel horse” moment. One of the funniest falls I have ever seen in my life. And did I sympathize with him? Did I go to help him up? No. I hissed at him, “Jesus … shut the fuck up!” Tears of laughter streaming down Beth and Mere’s faces as I struggled to get myself into the messed-up position Rory landed in. “No, wait, his leg was back like this … and then the other leg was …”

We also went up to my roof (a ritual I make every visitor I have go through) to see the spectacular view. The entire island of Manhattan unfolding across the river, glimmering sparkling, the Chrysler Building lit up, the Empire State Building lit up in red and green, the building with a gold top, the building like a champagne bottle … The SCOPE, the PERSPECTIVE … it is certainly something to take your breath away.

But other than Union Square and the roof?

We were in our pajamas. Chilling out. Talking about our lives, our issues, whatever it is each of us are struggling with right now – sharing, laughing, talking. Great stuff.

Next time I will stock up on Mad Libs, because truly: there is nothing funnier than hanging out with old old friends and breaking out the Mad Libs.