Old friends

Friends are a precious gift that I often take for granted. Shame on me.

Tonight, I had dinner with my friend M, who I have known since 1990. We knew each other in Dallas, then I moved to Houston, then he moved to Houston, then he moved back to Dallas, but we have kept up over the years.

When he lived in H-town, we dined out often at fine restaurants. Our favorite was Americas, which we visited when it first opened, and which was named as the best new restaurant of the year by Esquire. It was still fabulous tonight, even though they took my favorite entree and my favorite dessert off the menu.

But more fabulous than the dinner was the time spent catching up with my long-time friend. Old friends are the best friends.

Basketball

I love the NBA.

I love to see the professional basketball players run up and down the court in their sleevleless jerseys and "shorts" (that are not really short, but we still see some leg).

My basketball season will end soon. My Mavs are already out of the playoffs, and my Rockets won't be far behind them.

But I enjoy the season while I can.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, Y'all

True story: I once worked for a manager who asked - in all seriousness - "what day is Cinco de Mayo this year?"

It takes a lot of brains to be a manager.

I have never been a manager. I might be insulted if asked to apply for a managerial job.

The Soul of a Rich Woman

Many years ago, my friend A's manicurist told A that she had the soul of a rich woman. A bestowed the title on me, and we have often discussed how unfair it is that we need the trappings of the rich, yet we are not rich.

Today, I learned just how soulful I am.

A colleague gave me a gift certificate to the ultimate Houston spa, and I reveled in the pampering. The best part of all was the mud wrap: a highly trained service provider slathered me in Baltic mud and wrapped me in towels. After the mud removed all of my toxins, a wonderful shower arm with four - count 'em: four! - shower heads rinsed me off - as I lay practically sleeping. My, my, my. I could do that every day.

What I want to be when I grow up

A backup singer for George Clinton/Parliament/Funkadelic/P-Funk All-Stars

I would get to be on a stage with a singer/guitarist who wears a diaper, even though he is close to 60 and not in shape (unless you consider "round" a shape).

I would get to wear essentially a black one-piece bathing suit, covered by gold sequined panties, over fishnet hose, with high-heeled shiny gold go-go boots, and a floor-length gold sequined cape. And I would not need to be thin or be able to dance particularly well.

This has now superseded my dream of being a Toadie roadie.