Something has to be said about spending time with a dear friend. 

In person. In real life. 

You get them. And they get you. And the fact that they let you go on and on about something until you’re both sitting on a metaphorical leather sofa eating chips and guac. 

It is pure bliss.

And what cracks me up? The tangents. The winding road an initial conversation takes you on because you’re so excited to catch up. 

I will accidentally do this with my husband with vastly different results. When a tangent begins to emerge, the look on his face is indescribable. 

It could start out innocently enough, with me asking him: “Does this look OK?”

“You look beautiful.”

“But this blouse makes my neck look creasy.”

“You look beautiful. Are you ready to…”

“This is a blouse from that thrift store we went to. I’ll definitely put on more neck cream if I wear this one. Oh wait I have a different one from the same shop.”

“ I don’t know what you’re…”

“Remember the thrift shop we went to years ago where S and I found so many designer pieces? And you and C wanted to leave? This one or this one?”

“I see zero difference. I’m not following you. Are you ready to…”

I will then change my entire outfit and wonder why he isn’t following me.

Maybe he just zones out when I break out mid-tangent? I will go off and then boom, all he hears is white noise?

I love this man and Lord knows he has a lot of patience.

But when it comes to Jackie tangents?

Less than zero.

I don’t know if it’s because of our age or the way we are wired, but I believe when you have a similar conversation with a dear friend who happens to be female, there’s often a mutual acceptance. A knowing. For some reason, you end up following all the zig zags, tangents and ramblings. Kind of like what I’m doing right now. I mean if Reese were reading this, she’d probably understand.

“She doesn’t know you.”

“But I feel like I know her.”

And…. I digress ;).

My friend and I will start off talking about the best hot roller brushes available that don’t cost $400, then a childhood memory of hot rollers pops up followed by Rave home perms and why my mom set my hair using soft pink rollers after giving me a home perm over the kitchen sink that made the whole house smell like a chemical spill. I can almost sense the pungent scent right now. 

I believe professionals would have a more specific medical term for female mid-life ramblings but I take comfort in the chaos and the conversations. The laughing until I’m not actually making a sound because I’m cackling so hard. I honestly see it as a form of comic relief. Like free therapy. 

With all the estrogen being rinsed away daily, I can honestly say it helps keep me sane. And smiling. Not to mention remembering why I walked into the kitchen. 

My cousin came to visit this past week and I swear we went off on so many tangents. In the middle of Homegoods, mind you. We started talking about Lord knows what and then…three tangents later, we wound up totally forgetting what we were talking about. 

The fact that we couldn’t remember made us laugh even harder. By the time we reached the next aisle, in front of the most random collection of ceramic frog-shaped planters filled with fake flowers, I almost wet my wide legged jeans. (Something I definitely need to address another time. Not that. You know. How we all adore this store despite the occasional ceramic frog. And how much longer do we have to wear wide-leg jeans? I’m in my mid-50s. I like to stay on trend, but I have to admit, when I pair them with sneakers and a parka, I look like I’m a senior citizen rehearsing for a boy band. How much longer do we have to wait until the more slimming straight-leg-denim-with-knee-high-boots look comes back in fashion?)

Until then, cheers to women friends, belly laughs and all the tangents!