Girls on the Go

Here's to the ladies who lunch -
Everybody laugh
Lounging in their caftans
Planning a brunch -

Just two of us at Can Can, and definitely not wearing caftans. Can't say I've ever worn a caftan, although I have wondered if it's a distant cousin to the muu-muu.

We are laughing, too, because we find each other funny and it's been too long. But mostly we're gabbing non-stop with very little planning happening.

Off to the gym
Then to a fitting
Claiming they're fat 
And looking grim -

Neither of us goes to the gym, although she did mention recently taking her first exercise class on a bike while lifting weights, if that counts. And fittings? How very 1950s that sounds!

Lunch had more of a '70s feel to it. My lobster, leek and Pecorino quiche (because real women do eat it) loomed over lightly dressed mixed greens but we were both mainly into the cone of frites placed between us. Part of the privilege of age is that neither of us claims to be fat. That's a young woman's game.

And here's to the girls who play smart
Aren't they a gas?

Smart friends are the only kind of friends to have and this one definitely qualifies. Between us, we dissected the bike race, media blitzes for restaurants that never open and why some people insist on playing the popularity game Not for us.

A matinee, a Pinter play
Perhaps a piece of Mahler's -

Our entertainment was the brasserie theater of Can Can, chosen last week by my friend as our destination because, to her, it always seems sunny there, a quality that was highly desirable during that non-stop precipitation.

Older couples enjoying wine with lunch, young mothers with babies and their mother in tow, and what looked to be regulars at the bar buzzed around us. Walking in, I'd been greeted by a familiar face on his lunch break from his wine job. He was such a gentleman that he found me once he'd eaten to give me a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

And here's to the girls who play wife
Aren't they too much?

Sometimes, but not always. My friend is a wife but an interesting enough one not to need to clutch a copy of "Life" to stay in touch. She has Twitter and Facebook for that.

Another chance to disapprove
Another brilliant zinger
Another reason not to move
Another vodka stinger -

Disapprove? Not us. We decided jointly that we don't care enough to bother. We only need to approve of us and how we handle ourselves.

But disinterest, that's another story. We've got it to spare. A protracted discussion of Tinder leads to my friend announcing, "I only hope I never have to date again," effectively summing up the hopes of all single middle aged women.

And please let the record show, vodka was nowhere in evidence. Another cup of obscenely rich hot chocolate after my first? Even I couldn't manage that.

So here's to the girls on the go --
Everybody tries
Look into their eyes
And you'll see what they know
Everybody dies -

True enough, but there's so much to enjoy before getting to that. Three satisfying hours at Can Can dishing about everybody and everything, for one.

A toast to the invincible bunch
The dinosaurs surviving the crunch
Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch -

Let's do. We're a dying breed and the replacements seem lacking. Too bad there's not a Pinter play addressing that.