My Friend K

I've been furiously emailing all afternoon with The Burp, who has convinced me to go to a school reunion dinner next month. Now we're racking our brains for more recruits. Scarab, who is looking even more glamorous these days, is a possibility, as is our friend Dr Zhivago, who lives in Melbourne but seems to have a substantial personal budget for cross-continental flights.

But this blog is really about my friend k. who has moved with her husband, d., to Kalgoorlie - you may remember k. from her insistence that Harry Chapin sang American Pie. Mostly I emailed her today just to spite her because she rang me a few weeks ago and when we were finishing up the conversation I said I'd be in touch soon and she said, really sarky, "Yeah sure," and so I'm just making her life a misery by emailing to prove a point. I know that every "bing!' in her inbox is a descent into a living hell.

As it turns out, k. is ...ahem, somewhat indisposed; in a delicate condition; entering confinement; preggers. Actually, I've known that for quite some time. Not as long as k. has, of course, but for quite some time.

Anyway, k. also mentioned that because of this slight inconvenience she hasn't been drinking - the wowsers of the world can breathe a sigh of relief. As a consequence they've built up quite a stock of wine at their house and it's giving her one hell of a thirst, so she's been whispering to the sweet bundle lying safe & warm within her womb, "Hurry up and be born now. The sooner you arrive, the sooner it will be six weeks and I can get your father to feed you while I indulge in bacchanalian revelry."

(Oops! Wowser alert!)

What caused all this lip smacking was the delivery of a case of wine this afternoon while she was napping. She told me this was a boon because it roused her in time to "look like I am constructively attempting to feed d. (you know, strew a few veges about and put a saucepan on the bench until he gets home and then just look really exhausted so that he says, "Can I help?" and then promptly remove myself to a safe distance from the work area)."

When I told her I was going to blog about what a slatternly, no-good wife she was, she replied, "Don't forget to mention that one really needs to be in a good viewing position in order to gain the optimum benefit!"

I miss her. Also, I like wine. If that isn't a good reason for taking a jaunt out to Kalgoorlie, hell, I don't know what is.