Babes on a Bench

Here’s Annie, Carol, and me, aging with passion and talking about it. We meet once a month and tell each other everything. We egg each other toward ever-greater outrageousness, inventiveness, and exploration, and we’re all three absolutely loving our lives. Three smart women who make an art of truth-telling, we sometimes get so stirred up that we shout and wave our arms, and we notice that sometimes people turn and stare. Annie says it’s because we’re such Babes.

I was taking a few pictures of Annie and Carol when a passing art student named Justin offered to take a picture of the three of us. I handed him my camera, and we just went on talking while Justin fired away.

After that I drove way out in the country for about an hour, to a gathering of women who live on women's land. An old friend I haven't seen since the 80s in Massachusetts had driven across country to join their celebration, and there were several other women there I've known in places far from here in time as well as geography.

My stars must be aligned in some rare configuration. Monday night an old friend from California was in town; tomorrow I have more momentous events, Thursday Bella's back for the first time in ages, and Friday is Seth's fortieth birthday, so I don't know when normal commenting will resume. I'll turn comments back on, but I'm not here much.