Every year in the early fall, more than a dozen friends venture out together for our annual ‘Girls’ Trip’. Probably ‘Girls’ is an odd euphemism for 50-somethings, but it is just too ridiculous to call it a Ladies’ Trip. More on that in a moment. This tradition has been going on for either 17 or 19 years – the number cannot be agreed upon, even though there is an attempt to sort it out and write it down every couple of years. The destination is different each year, no repeats allowed. It started out as a Girls’ Weekend, blossomed to a long weekend, grew another day added for travel, and eventually evolved into a five day trip. Now some of the women are traveling on Tuesday, and we suspect this thing is inching into a week-long expedition.
Like so many things, the anticipation is part of the fun. This trip is really well organized – we are talking about some women who could handle the Mideast Crisis like a communication snafu at work. Everybody takes a turn at planning, which is no small task but does have advantages – control of the date and destination, first crack at the Master bed and bath, and hostess gifts that are thoughtful, funny, and often wine-related. Recently, we’ve started renting houses instead of staying at hotels as it became apparent that the Slumber Party aspect of the trip is our favorite part. It’s a time, effort and expense investment for everyone, and 100% absolutely worth it.
So, we pre-plan for and farm out children, temporarily abandon careers, delegate responsibility of our parents to siblings, and leave lots of post-it notes for our husbands… And off we go.
The best way to describe the fabulous vibe this time together evokes would be to paste a video I took one night right here: But you would not believe the aggressive threats I received from these otherwise lovely women. You would have thought I was publishing a Tommy Lee sex tape.
So instead, I will describe it to you with words (and without names):
The scene is a big, beautiful beach house right on the water in Cape Cod. Happy music, often bad 80’s, is blasting underneath at least 7 separate conversations. K1 is dancing. K2 is in the kitchen, braless but running a tight ship, orchestrating dinner for 13 and directing her sous chefs/slaves around. E and D2 are off to the side, catching up - E landed a well deserved and near perfect position at her company this year and D2 is in love and it is just adorable. We are already making a good dent in the astonishing amount of wine procured for the trip. K1 is such a good dancer! A couple of girls are breaking into the vodka. H’s darling daughter is a Kilgore Rangerette and I want to see pictures. And I want to do the splits. K1 is a really good dancer! Outside on the big patio, candles are burning and the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful. Cigarettes are also burning, but I’m not supposed to say that. (Only once a year! I swear! Only on this trip!) D3 is the youngest; she is checking on her little ones, trying to be heard over AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’. So happy the charming J is here – wait – how did she get the Master? No one can work the can opener. We are trying to think of a country M hasn’t hiked through; no luck. K1 has Donald Trump-like confidence! L got married this year and looked so beautiful; we are still discussing her hair, dress, wedding. And groom - we remember the groom! S got divorced this year and looks like a million bucks; we will be living vicariously through her second Singledom (insert porn music here: “brown chicken brown cow!”) All carbs are being represented, which is only fair. D1 is perfect. 5 children, career, great marriage. She is famous for working out daily and going to church on the trip. We all wish we were married to her. M has developed a ‘Buzz Maintenance’ program and it is brilliant. We are out of red wine, but not vodka. B is organizing whale watching for those in good enough shape early tomorrow morning - alternately The Best Idea Ever or cringe worthy boat trip with hangover in rain. Seriously, K1 is such a good dancer!
Can you kind of visualize?
From touring Biltmore to trekking vineyards to visiting the Sex Museum in ProvinceTown - just love/need/appreciate my ‘Girls’!