|AND THIS, IN CASE YOU'VE EVER WONDERED, is how you make a Mentor sandwich. Take two spicy Latinas, add one delightful former boss and three dozen pints of beer, and voila.|
A dear friend of mine who I will identify only as The Portuguese Goddess (above, left) hosted a party this weekend for some of my erstwhile colleagues. It was a helluva party, a no-holds barred drunkup of the sort only journalists and hookers can manage, and I got to reconnect with people I hadn't seen in years. Amazing people. Talented people. Hilarious, witty, adorable people, all of whom I'm sure were wondering HOW THE HELL DOES SHE MANAGE TO LOOK YOUNGER WITH EACH PASSING YEAR although no one actually said it out loud. I don't need to hear the words; I read looks, you guys. (You should be careful when you are gazing directly into my eyes; I could get your SIN number from you if I wanted to.)
I spent a good deal of the evening chatting with a delightful gentleman who was, whether he knows it or not, the catalyst for my brilliant career, if not for this very blog. He was my Creative Writing teacher in college, and many years later, he was my managing editor. I owe a huge debt to him, a debt I humbly repaid Saturday night by allowing him to purchase my drinks. I'm a firm believer in giving back.
Now that we've all had a chance to sober up, I'd like to take this opportunity to gratefully acknowledge my mentor, Don McCurdy, my dear bestie The Goddess, and all the friends who made that era of my life such a wonderful, unforgettable experience. Too often we lose touch with the people who blessed our lives by being in it. Saturday night was all about not letting that happen. So cheers to you, my friends. Let's do it again soon. Next Friday, maybe? If you're buying, I'm available!