Blast from the Past

Well, I s'pose you all wanna know how my lunch date went with my hub's ex-girlfriend, huh? The one who drove the Trans Am and made my vida la miserabla?

Well, let's just say I was ready with squirt gun and sharpie in hand (In case she needed more facial hair, which she did.)

I mean if God didn't want her to have more facial hair, he wouldn't have invented Sharpies, right?

I was going to get hair extensions and eye lash extensions and silicone extensions before I showed my face at lunch, but I decided that would put me at an unfair advantage, you know. So instead I just decided to wear my t-shirt that says Nani Nani Boo Boo.

I probably should have gone with the extensions because even with a sharpie it was almost impossible to make my hub's ex look bad.

But where there's a will, there's a way. Am I right, or am I right? 

Seriously though, she's like a Charlies angel.

Jealous? Who me?

Nah, just trying to decide if I should do the peace sign. Behind her head. Because after all these years I think I'm finally mature enough to call a truce.

For the record, the lunch wasn't just with my hub's ex. It was with a bunch of smarty-pants girls from high school and since I'm such a dummy, this is my first invitation.

So while everyone was sharing what they have made of themselves since high school . . .

I began to sweat because I couldn't think of anything I've made of myself, so I was like, Project Manager? Me too. I'm a project manager too. And they were like oh really, do tell what kinds of projects you manage? And I was like um . . . I manage to get out of bed each morning. And I manage to get my dishes done almost every other day. And I manage to keep my oldest son from starving--now there's a HUGE project. And . . . and . . . and . . .

But that just turned the conversation to food prep. Food prep, food prep, food prep, that's all smart girls talk about. They know their food prep.

And coincidentally, the restaurant where we ate, Molly's, just so happened to be owned by my prom date, who also knows his food prep. (What a YUM-O restaurant.) (BTW, lucikly he had plenty of facial hair so I didn't need to use my Sharpie on him.)

Ironically he and I had a foods class together in high school so at least one of us was paying attention.

We also won a cake decorating contest together with our rendition of a hamburger, complete with real lettuce and tomatoes. (Hey, it was the 80's! There was no Cake Boss, or fondant, or hanging chads. It was easy to stuff a ballot box in the olden days.)

BTW, yes, I took the opportunity to apologize, after all these years, for wearing such a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad dress to his senior dinner dance.

He said he couldn't remember, but I could tell he'd been holding a grudge. 

(For the record, and just to clear the air, we never did any smooching. Mostly because he didn't like Lionel Richie, and how can anyone kiss a guy who doesn't like Lionel Richie?)

So all the smart girls asked my prom date if he would take us on a tour of his kitchen. Go figure!

But, OMGOSH, it was three times the size of Vermont. And probably three times cleaner. And the bakery walls were lined with Betty Crocker cake mixes and red velvet sheet cakes, and there were two big smokers in the back, and a bin full of hickory smoked wood, and the smart girls were like, Mmmmm I can smell the brisket, and I was like, what's a brisket?

Bottom line, if you ever go to lunch with your hub's ex, I highly recommend Molly's! Tell my prom date I sent you and I bet he'll make you a hamburger cake. On the house.