real women

I spent this weekend with eight women at Black Butte. We watched chick flicks, listened to Josh Groban, debated reality TV, rode mountain bikes, went to Sisters to shop where we laid eyes of Vince Gill but didn’t have the guts to ask if we could take his picture or ask where Amy was. We bought a toothbrush, contact lens cleaner and a Southern Gospel CD. We read books, took naps and ate the most fabulous homemade food. Two meals a day were plenty and we each had to cook only one dish all weekend. We took turns blessing our food, fun and friends.

We were women who thumbed through old issues of Real Simple and chuckled at someone’s observation that most of the suggestions found there would only complicate our everyday lives. Sunday morning we lingered around the breakfast table and when we were done, we cleaned the house from top to bottom so our hostess didn’t have to hire someone to do it. As we worked and played, we learned new things about each other. We shared our admiration, gratitude and disappointments freely and wished out loud that we could be more like this all the time. We decided to call our magazine Real Women. Unfortunately, we had to return to the Real World this morning.