Chick Lit

Despite the impression you may have of me, I have to admit that I did not become this wise and perceptive without the guidance of others in my life. One is not naturally born with the ability to judge what all others should be doing. Years of observation, interpretation and, most importantly, discussion with sage souls are necessary to reach the pinnacle of awareness where you, my reader, now finds me. I’ve been blessed with wise parents, gifted sisters, brilliant grandfathers and grandmothers for whom no superlatives are accurate enough to describe. I’ve got uncles, aunts and cousins who’ve contributed in a myriad of ways. And along the way, I’ve been incredibly lucky to amass a network of friends that continue to inform and amaze me. This mosaic of characters is my research base and a description of any of them would make a brilliant entry. However, for today, I’ll limit myself to one particular group of women who have been bringing great wisdom and laughter into my life for the past six years.

One day, in the winter of 1999, a friend said, “I think you should join my book club” and since I’ve been a bookworm my entire life, this seemed a brilliant plan. I remember being nervous the first meeting. I’d met many of the members before but didn’t really know anyone but the friend who’d invited me to join. Initially, I felt somewhat intimidated by this group of incredibly well read, educated and informed women. Until that point, I would have said that no one read more than I did, that I was the bookiest of anyone I knew. Upon entering my first meeting, I noticed the host’s bookshelves and quickly knew I’d found a place where I belonged. Hundreds of great books lined the shelves of her living room and office and we’d all read similar authors. We all agreed that “A Fine Balance” was one of the best books ever written and by the time the first book club meeting ended, my intimidation had turned to admiration and gratitude. This was going to be awesome.

Over the years, the book club has evolved into a supper club where the host (whoever chose the latest book) serves the rest of us dinner. Luckily, every one of the bookies loves food and that’s obvious from the feasts we’ve prepared for each other. We eat, we laugh, we debate, we sometimes argue (but always respectfully) and we learn from each other. For instance, I’ve learned about impacted milk glands and impacted anal glands (thankfully, the latter belonged to a dog and not one of the members). I’ve garnered helpful hints for the removal of wine stains in tablecloths (lots and lots of salt). I’ve been enlightened about the nature of a “Hot Carl” and a “Dirty Sanchez”. I’ve discovered new comedians, films, and authors. I’ve found workout partners and colleagues from among my fellow bookies. We’ve shared each other’s joys, successes and disappointments over glasses of wine and cups of tea. They’ve indulged and even encouraged (through their laughter) my opinionated rants, calmly asking, “but what do you really think?” at the end of a particularly violent tirade.

When I look forward in my life, I know these women will be there. That none of us would willingly dissolve this club because beyond the wonderful books we’ve read together, we are also writing the stories of our lives, meeting by meeting. And so far, that’s the best story of them all.