Walked and Debriefed

You say tomato, I say tomahto.

You could call it a girls' day out or you could call it a mutual debriefing.

It began with a mile and a half walk downtown to La Parisienne, during which the information sharing started in earnest.

She, with multiple visits to Italy under her belt, wanted to hear about my escapades in Italia.

In return, she had scads of information about what had been going on here in my absence.

Apparently despite some people's protestations to the contrary, life went on in Richmond while I was absent.

We passed a sign saying, "It's Friday! Hug a friend," so I did, right there on the sidewalk.

Arriving at the restaurant, we both agreed that the best part about it is that we never see anyone we know.

It's like having lunch in another city.

Granted, that's probably because there are plenty of suits and high-powered-looking types there and we're anything but.

Still, it feeds our fantasy that we've escaped.

Being women, we played good eater/bad eater roles, having salads (I did the Lyonnaise, also known as the bacon and bleu) with a side of their outstanding fries.

We compared impressions of Italy, important cultural conversations that women have.

Like what the hell is in the water to make a woman's hair (whether curly or straight) turn into straw while there?

And why do Italian women have an affinity for plain-sight bras of colorful hues?

And most importantly, the splendor of corner gelaterias and the importance of ordering Italian-style.

When it came time for the RVA scoop, she made sure I knew about the latest Twitter wars, which new places she'd tried and the trials of dealing with clueless types.

While she enjoyed a cappuccino, I had crepes with rum  and lemon juice, a light yet sweet ending to my meal.

Walking back up the hills the mile and a half home, we wandered block to block, the better to check out what you can't from a car.

There was Social Consignment with its lovely pink-upholstered chair, a new southern style restaurant advertising a half rack of ribs lunch special (who wouldn't need a nap after a lunch like that?) and checked out the progress on the upcoming Rappahannock River Oyster Company and Tarrant's renovations.

I care more about one than the other.

After a stop at the Hoppy Dog, we moseyed back to my place for another quarter hour of catch-up.

You say ketchup, I say catch up.

Four hours with a girlfriend is the best kind of Friday imaginable.