Girls’ Weekend

My best friend (my BFF according to Sophie), is getting remarried in March.  She’s keeping it simple – in fact, she’s essentially eloping with her fiancé.  But she still needs a dress.  And because I her self-appointed best woman (I refuse to use the term “matron of honor,” which is just so stupid), she and I are spending the weekend in New York to find something she can wear in front of her soon-to-be husband and the justice of the peace.

Our plan is simple.  We arrive in New York late morning.  We head to the department store.  She finds her dress in under two hours, one hour if we’re really lucky.  We have lunch.  We go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the newly restored American wing.  We go to the movies.  We have dinner.  We spend a restful night in a lovely hotel room without our kids.  We sleep late (which for us probably means no later than 8 AM), have a leisurely breakfast and maybe hit another movie before returning to our real lives and real families on Sunday afternoon.

Of course this brilliant plan is contingent on a very expedient dress hunt.  But my BFF is nothing if not determined to keep the whole shopping thing simple.  She has about as much patience for shopping as I do, so I hope she’s right.  In order to successfully fulfill my role as best woman, I will need to suppress my natural impatience, be incredibly supportive and make sure that she doesn’t settle for the wrong dress just because she can’t stand the shopping anymore.  Oh, the pressure.  What’s an acceptable time to start drinking?

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