Boca can wait

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Once upon a time, two single ladies living in NYC flew south for the weekend.  Over lunch at the Delano and drinks at the Shore Club, the conversation wasn't that much different than at home. 

C:  What if we never meet our husbands?

Me (after shuddering):  I guess we'll just move down here.  We'll be the Golden Girls.

C:  Who gets to be the trampy one?

Me:  Blanche?  You can.  I'll be Rose or Sophia.  (Bea Arthur, wherever you are, love ya but nobody wants to be Dorothy.) 

As it turns out, the retirement community of South Florida will have to wait. 

 Today, I am grateful ~

1/ That fairy tales do come true.  I married H in May and C married her prince last night.

2/ For chocolate fondue fountains and cocktail hours and open bar.    

3/ That C and I have a good thirty years to work on our tap dance routine for the senior citizen talent show.  

 

Follow me and my yearlong project, Stop and Blog the Roses: One Spoiled American's Year of Living Thankfully, on Twitter @fernronay.   

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