When I first met my friend Mary, we lived around the corner from each other in the Fan and had all the world in common. We were both relatively recent transplants to Richmond, worked in rather unfulfilling corporate jobs, couldn’t get enough sushi from Akida on Robinson, and enjoyed red wine too much for our own good. Then Mary had the nerve to land a big promotion and head for California, and I got married and pregnant (in that order), quit my job and moved to Suburbia.
Now seven years later, we no longer have anything in common at all if you look at the stats. She’s single, lives in a cool condo in downtown San Diego and drives a swanky BMW. Her high-level corporate job has her traveling laps around the country and spending way too much time stranded in airports. (Don’t even get her started.) Since she doesn’t have time to buy stamps, she has been known to FedEx birthday cards. I can speak from experience since I received one such card a couple of years ago and am still laughing about it.
As for me, I’m in an entirely different stratosphere. I’ve been married for six years, live in “all the way out there” in Salisbury, have a three-year-old son, drive a station wagon, and stay at home while writing freelance on the side when I can squirrel some time away, like now. I’ve barely flown in years, only to see relatives, and pathetically enough get excited to break away from Midlothian Turnpike.
Yet we are still the best of buds. Mary was just in town for work and stayed with us for the Fourth. We quickly slipped into our bad habits of excessive wine consumption — and gluttony. Since we couldn’t find a babysitter, Mary suggested that we get take-out from Flemings, expensed to her company of course.
Who in the world gets take-out from Flemings? And that begs the questions — does Flemings even have take-out? The whole idea was ridiculously hilarious to me. Well, the answer to the first question is that Mary for one gets take-out from Flemings. And yes, Virginia, Flemings does indeed have take-out. And it was goooood, or as Rachel Ray says, “Yum-O!” We feasted on portobello mushroom fries, calamari with aoli, fresh mozzarella and tomato salads, a 16 oz. filet, tuna steaks, chocolate lava cake, cheesecake, and ice cream. Oh, and the four bottles if wine were much nicer than anything we’ve ever bought. All that and more was on our kitchen table, with the added ambiance of Sam’s booster seat and ABC placemat.
LibbY