We agreed that we would not get tattoos. And while we did not discuss any objections to skinny-dipping, it was too dang cold to even be considered.
But we did have fun.
Who, you say? Or, whom, if you're better at this English stuff than I am.
Why, Telerie and Lab-Lover, you silly people. Haven't you been following every moment, every nanosecond, every pixel I've written in preparation?
Ah well that's okay. All will be revealed.
For those not in the know, Telerie is here in Boston on business from Oslo. Once in a lifetime opportunity alert!!! Lab-Lover and I live and work in the area and met before, at a 5K.
Our tale begins with me getting to Telerie's hotel in Copley Square. Now, ya gotta picture this. I'm wearing a 20-year-old brown leather jacket (yes, it fits again!), a yellow Champion sweatshirt, a pistachio green-colored turtleneck, blue jeans and New Balance sneakers. I'm carrying my purse and a canvas bag which has stuff in it (camera, water, giftie thingies, etc.). The hotel, on the other hand, is what you see in the dictionary when you look up the word "posh". Marble. Glass. Painted ceilings. Ornate gilding. Fresh amaryllis flowers in the foyer, thank you very much. And I am thinking, I have never been this posh. Even if I were to gather up every semi-elegant thing I've ever owned, including my wedding gown, and wore them all together (assuming that was even possible), I would never measure up to such standards. So I'm ready to see my Sparky pals but at the same time I feel like pretty soon someone's gonna grab me and escort me from the premises, perhaps using a hook from one of those carnival crane machines.
I called Telerie and she came down and -- I gotta tell ya -- she is one stunning woman. She's tall, she's brunette, she has a lovely smile and laugh and is very stylish. And she immediately tells me that she feels permanently underdressed in the hotel, too, and it wasn't her idea, it was her boss's. Whew.
Then Lab Lover arrived (she was dressed pretty similarly to me) and we decided to get outta Dodge. But not before some photos were taken (I will upload tonight when I get home). Lab Lover has the prettiest blue eyes.
The area is mostly flat and mostly safe and mostly interesting. There's a boatload of history and a lot of tourists and a variety of vehicles (DUKW, anyone?). But who needs any of that? Instead, we walked around, of all places, offices where I used to work. This is not as odd and pedestrian as it may sound, as my current office is across the street from Government Center (The World's Ugliest Capital Building!), and the one from a few jobs before that was a few blocks from Telerie's hotel, so it was just a kind of passing thing to point out.
Then we detoured to Faneuil Hall. Faneuil Hall is where, er, some sort of historical type stuff happened over two hundred years ago, involving a buncha dudes in powdered wigs. At least, that's what I think happened. Plus there was break dancing although that might've just happened yesterday.
And then ... ahh ... wait for it ...
It was the best line of the day.
We were walking by some guy holding a cup and hoping for spare change. There are, unfortunately, quite a few of these guys, and probably more because of the current state of the economy. One who hangs around near an ATM near my office routinely proposes marriage when I walk by.
I'm thinking it over.
But wait, I digress. This was a different guy, the one with the cup. He sees us and says (I swear this is true), "You're three of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Can I have a dollar?"
Well, the dude did not get his dollar. But he did get a lot of smiles and thank yous.
And yanno something, he's right.
Except, er, for the dollar part, I think.
I mean, what is beauty? What is it, REALLY? Sure it's looks. And it's brains and talent, too, I suppose. And we are not movie stars by any means and we all know when we're being buttered up and overly flattered.
But what is truly lovely, truly stunning, is how we have changed. We aren't just thinner. We aren't just faster. We don't just now have closets full of running tights and Polar heart rate monitors.
We have confidence. We have charisma. We have soul.
We know that sparking hasn't just helped us to become more fit. It's helped, in many ways, to make us better people, better versions of ourselves. You know, the selves who get promoted. The ones who elicit smiles. The ones who find jobs quickly, even in a bad economy. The ones who are respected. The ones who are spoken of in mysterious tones.
Did ya hear she ran a 5K? In the rain? Did ya hear she gets up every morning and works out, even on the weekends? Did ya hear she gave away bags of clothes because she truly believes she'll NEVER be fat again? Did ya hear she ...?
Turning heads is one thing. Changing minds is something else.
But lest you think we just floated by in a gorgeous haze, we also sat down together and just talked. And we laughed and joked and were serious and sweet, and you feel like: I've known you forever. Didn't we go to third grade together? Didn't we get in trouble that one time? Didn't we play Capture the Flag in camp? Didn't we ...?
Watch out for us; we're the wild girls, walking down the street.