The Death Party

A few of my girlfriend’s and I are taking our annual Girl’s Get-A-Way this weekend. I so look forward to this weekend all year long. We drive up to my friend’s cabin that is about 3 hours away and just read, talk, drink wine, play cards and try not to get lightheaded and faint from standing up to fast after sitting on the couch for too long.

One of the best parts of leaving town is seeing what Jen has planned to do with her kids the day before she leaves. You see, every time she leaves town, she makes sure everything in her life is in order and then spends one last wonderful day with her children so they would at least have one last fond memory of her if she suddenly got scrubbed off the face of the planet.

On our trip to Boston together we came up with a term for this “excersise” that she puts herself through before every trip. We fondly call it The Death Party.

She told me over coffee today that she was taking her kids skiing tomorrow. I asked her if that was all she was doing for The Death Party this trip and she said, “We’ll yeah and I don’t get as worried driving someplace as I do flying.”

And as her best friend, I did have to make it clear to her that it is MUCH MORE LIKELY that we get killed in a car accident than it would be going down in a fiery plane crash. That’s what good friends are for, right?

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