Pickled Hens of Ponte Vedra

So, Blogistas since I am now doing my own blog I want to introduce you to my posse.  These ladies and I go waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back into last century.  really.  I am that old.
Our annual beach trips started in our EARLY twenties for a bachelorette party.  Boy have we gone through husbands, divorces, children, crises and GREAT TIMES.  We are nearing our 20th anniversary, but as our name mildly implies, we can't precisely remember our inaugural trip year.  We spend 5 days each year at one of the girls' beach joint.  we've honed the entire operation with military precision.  You will learn many things that will have you going...''no way...that couldn't possibly have happened..."  It is all true, in some form or fashion.sorta kinda.maybe.

THE PICKLED HENS

lulu--that's me---junker, antique dealer, jewelry designer and maker, (the one without a REAL job ;))
Grace, a psychologist
Mimi, interior designer NOT DECORATOR!!!
Suzanne, a banker
Nina, a marketing guru
Blondie, attorney

**THE names have been changed to protect the innocent guilty. And to allow us to continue to fly Delta and be let into the State of Florida.

Let's start with Suzanne.  It is her place we overrun annually.  We call Suzanne 'Idaho'.  She gave herself that nickname.  This is true: Years ago (last century) Suzanne, Nina and I were out at a bar.  Nina arrives last and informs us she is now going by an alias(!). Duh.  If you knew this one, you'd get it. 

"I am Montana", she declares and throws back her blond mane.

 OH HERE WE GO.  There is no end to her drama. 

"Don't you think it fits me?  I have always wanted to go out West." 

Me too but I didn't think naming myself a state was part of the deal.

Suzanne, who got to the bar EARLY, swivels around and says

" Well, Idaho!"

Huh? What? Montana and I give each other a shrug.  IDAHO?

"yes, Idaho.  You know....you da ho'   I da ho'"

oohhh dear. clearly The Great State of Montana and I needed to catch up.  Any way that is how she got her nickname.  She LOVES it.  We do too.  More on nicknames from this particular night later...

Our next chickie is Mimi the Interior DESIGNER.  Not DECORATOR.  I mean she went to school for her degree and by gum she is going to make sure everyone knows.  Mimi is a renaissance chick of the needle arts. Cross stitch, embroidery, knitting etc.  BUT, it was her 'macrame' phase that really pushed the limits.

One year she shows up with a new bikini.  Made from Macrame. She strategically placed wooden thingies over certain parts.  To be fair it was quite cute if you were in an ad from the '70s for Club Med!   Okay so we are on the beach.  We are feeling good.  Looking cute.  Mimi goes in for a swim.  What happened next appeared in the local weekly paper.  I am just thankful the photographer overexposed his film

A strange event happened on the beach this week.  A local fisherman, surf fishing for blues, ended up reeling in more than he bargained for.  It seems he hooked himself a mermaid.  He ended up having to really work for his 'catch'.  After 30 minutes of 'wrasslin' he finally gave one big heave and hauled up a female form all tangled up in what looked like a shrimpers net...

Oh yeah that's our girl!  Note to Mimi.  Heavy gauge hemp/rope chafes, is heavy when wet, doesn't maintain its shape, but it does hold a fishing hook pretty darn good.  yay.  She no longer makes her bikinis. Or stirrup covers.  Yep.  She whipped up some of those as a gift for her gynecologist.  I still don't know how she ended up with a sprained toe during her 'exam' but we don't ask questions about it any more.  She's still kinda touchy about the subject.

Next up is Nina.  aka Montana or our preferred name: Xena, Redneck Princess Warrior.  Yee HAW!

 She is gorgeous with her million dollar smile and tall wonderful legs and beautiful blonde hair. 

One year she came to the beach with a 'fake' tooth.  She was waiting for the permanent one to arrive.  It just happened to be one of her front pearlie whites. 

On the second day there she loses the temp in the sand.  Great.  Can I just say that after the beers and frozen drinks we were well on our way to laughing our asses off at her toofy grin instead of looking for the tooth.

She finds it and goes inside.  We continue to howl at her misfortune like GOOD FRIENDS DO.  The drinks continue to flow and we continue to laugh.  Nina comes down and annouces that the tooth isn't staying in place and does Idaho have any super glue?  It is a sign of heaven that we couldn't find any that night.  It is at this point that we find the tequila and start pouring shots for Xena.  She really needs it.  We really can't stop laughing.       

An aside: First of all she needs to find a REAL dentist and not go to that 'guy who is studying vet dentistry and does it for free cuz he needs real practical hours'.  Hello? UGA Vet School is only 75 miles from Atlanta...got horse teeth?  need cleaning? call the Vet school!!!!!   Second of all, we need to find a way to get that damn tooth back in her mouth so she doesn't spoil OUR GOOD TIMES! Priorities! 

It is decided that in the morning we'll call around for a dentist who does Saturday hours.  Good luck with that.   It is then decided that I HAVE TO CALL because I am married to a doctor?!?!  I'm not a doctor...but I am married to one... Nevermind that my husband isn't a dentist.  Or a surgeon.  Or that What Does It Matter Who Calls?  Xena Montana was still sleeping off last night's activities.  We felt bad that we laughed all night long.  I'm pretty sure it was my brilliant idea  that she wear a hot pink burka and white sunglasses outside so no one would see her tooth-less grin that put her over the top.  But I digress.  I make the call.  I put on my best schmooze-y sounding voice and explain the predicament.  He tells me to go buy super glue.  GRRRRR.  So we go buy it.  It doesn't work.  She used gum to keep it in place the rest of the trip.  It is still funny to this day. 

Allright....I know you can't wait for more but I have hand cramps.  I promise I will return tomorrow or the next day with another installment of....

..........THE PICKLED HENS OF PONTE VEDRA

p.s. there are NO photographs as we banned all image-making devices years ago.

ox lulu