An Unexpected Salami

Just got off the phone with my friend Veronica. V and I are kindred spirits. We are both Latin, we're both silly, we love to drink and we actually lived together for a short period of time, actually after another break up.

When I was young and in NYC, I met this guy named Carl. Carl was an artist who lived in the West Village. He was from Oslo and super cultured. He had rich, interesting friends. We had a one-night stand that turned into a six month relationship because I was poor and rent was expensive in NYC. I did something I swore I would never do again - and actually never have done again - I moved in with a guy to have a place to rest my head.

And I wasn't the best boyfriend. So I moved out and in with V and our friend Anne. We all went to college together. Old theatre pals. Living in Queens! Glamour! This sums up the friendship: we would make bloody marys and drink all day. Then we'd decide that we wanted to listen to the soundtrack of Chicago and would sit in the kitchen making more cocktails, someone would decide to cook and we'd have whatever fantastic, shoestring budget pantry creations we could come up with. Sometimes we'd be naked. Just because. Naked in their kitchen in Queens. But we always ate well. And we always had a great time.

One Thanksgiving I had dinner with her, her grandmother and her mom and we had the most amazing French style thanksgiving dinner - because she's also half French. Pate and cheese to start. Even on a budget, we always tried to eat well.

V has seen me make a fool out of myself - for love, for sport, for entertainment. So I'm recounting the story of the breakup and she says to me (NOTE: the connection on her cell wasn't good, so I kept asking her to repeat herself):

"Honey, let me know if you need anything. Like if you're not feeling well, I could send you an unexpected salami."

ME: "Excuse me. Did you say an unexpected tsunami or an unexpected salami?"

"Unexpected SALAMI. You know, to eat."

ME: "Well, I've already had some unexpected salamis lately. Surprisingly tasty."

Although, I would be just as happy to have an unexpected Tsuami named Veronica blow into town. And if she brought with her some pate, wine and wanted to duet on "All that Jazz", I wouldn't be mad at her.

I'm still laughing at that. I have the feeling that we'll be having the same conversations when we're 80 and we REALLY can't hear.