~ Female Bonding ~

I have not had time alone with another woman my age for dinner and drinks in FAR too long.  I don’t know exactly how or when I lost control of my own time, but life has had its merry way with me, and I no longer drive this particular bus.

Fortunately for me, this particular bus decided to give me a night out with one of the coolest chicks I’ve had the good fortune to get to know in a long time.

Her name is Vicki, and she looks like this:

She’s got a smile that will knock you back on your heels.  And she’s smart, so you can’t just try to bullshit your way past her.  And she’s funny.  And she’s tough.  I’d fear her if I wasn’t so filled with my own false sense of confidence.  I talk smack, but if someone calls me on it, I have to run away.  If she talks smack and someone calls her on it, she can back it up.

It’s good to have friends like Vicki.

I’ve been a paramedic for a few years.  Vicki has been a paramedic for decades.  She used to be in charge of all the medics in her battalion before the budget cuts hit our county.  You have to be smart, quick, and have unusually large, er, guts to be able to manage other medics.  Medics are a funny breed of people.  But that is for another post altogether.

Oh, and did I mention that she is a CAPTAIN?!  Do you have any idea how hard and rare it is for a woman to achieve the rank of Captain in the manly-man world of Fire and Rescue?  Well, baby, she did, and she didn’t sell out her femininity when she did it.  THAT got my attention, and my respect.

But I’m not here to talk Fire and Rescue tonight.  I’m here to talk Women, Food, and Love, in that order.

Women:  Vicki.  Awesome, sexy woman who I have only known slightly until this weekend, and now I know much better and like even more.  I love people who are not afraid to show their depth, their human-ness, their silly sides.  I love people who laugh at my jokes.  And after a couple of these:

She WAS laughing at all of my jokes.

I’m not above drugging my audience.

I also love people who share my love of food.  We were at the Braddock Inn in Braddock Heights, Maryland (http://braddockinn.com/) and guess what we ate.

She had steak with goat cheese on it.  I died when I tasted it.  It was unbelievable.

But then I had the fish and chips, and I was resurrected.

In all seriousness, it was some of the most succulent Cod I’ve ever, ever eaten.  Ever.   Go, try it now. I beg you.

Then we splurged, because drinking pear-tini’s, lemon-tinis,  cranberry-tinis, eating steak and fish was not splurge enough, and got desert.  Oh LAWDY.

Apple Peach Cobbler.  Or maybe it was Peach Pear Cobbler.  I can’t remember.  All I remember was that it was deliciousness served in a cast iron skillet all your own.  We wept.  Now see, Vicki, she’s somewhat of a health-conscious kind of gal.  She has to be for her job, I guess.  I figure that’s why she went with the fruit based desert.  Me, I live more dangerously.  I figure I won’t live past 60, so I try to cram all the goodness I can in until then.  So I chose this SIN of a desert:

I won’t lie to you, if my arteries hadn’t been plaque-encrusted then, they were after eating this.  Chocolate on chocolate on cocoa, on chocolate.  With ice cream.

You know me:  I’m a glutton.  But I will not lie to you…I couldn’t finish it.  I just couldn’t.  I really, really, really wanted to.  But I was too full.  And I wasn’t a pleasant full, I was an uncomfortable, unbuckle my belt, couldn’t-eat-one-wafer-thin-mint-more kind of full.

It was so sad.  So very sad.

Ok, I’m over it.

The final part of this post concerns love.

During our meal, Vicki told me how she and Brian, her husband who is also a captain in the fire service, met and fell in love.  I was also told in no uncertain terms that he is NOT to be the subject matter within Mamaboe.  So I will leave you with this:  They’ve always loved each other.  They’ve been married forever and are as much in love now as they were the day they first fell.

I was a puddle of martini-filled tears by the time I had heard the whole story.  I’ve decided Brian is at least as loveable as My Captain, and that I am not the Luckiest woman on the planet. It turns out I am only one of a couple of the luckiest women on the planet.

But I’m not allowed to talk about Brian, so I won’t.

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