“Remember his name?” “No, but I know who you mean.”
Me: “I love this place. It has a French name, so it seems tonier, even if it isn’t.”
Friend: “Yes, it’s La Providence, right?”
Me: “La Provence, but you were close.”
Friend: Shrugs shoulders. “I wonder if they have…what’s that roast beef sandwich?”
Me: “Are you talking about brisket?”
Friend: “No, no, you dip it in juice.”
Me: “French Dip?”
Friend: “Yes, French Dip. This is a French restaurant, I should have remembered.”
Me: “I watched the movie The Fisher King last night. It had that actor I loved in it.”
Friend: “The funny one who got dementia?”
Me: “Not him, but I like him, too. No, the one who was in The Summer of 42 and The Big Lebowski.”
Friend: “Oh, I loved those movies.”
Me: “Robin Williams.”
Friend: “That wasn’t Robin Williams!”
Me: “No, Robin Williams was the funny one who got dementia. He was so quick-witted. Amazing.”
Friend: “I used to be quick-witted. Now I’m barely funny.”
Me: “We all used to be quicker-witted.”
Friend: Looking at her I-phone. “Jeff Bridges.”
Me: “You’re cheating.”
Friend: “If it weren’t for the internet and GPS, I couldn’t go to lunch and discuss anything.”
Me: “I love Jeff Bridges. I like him better the older he gets.”
Friend: “He just stays age appropriate.”
Me: “Well, at least I’m mooning after age-appropriate actors.”
Friend: “When you can remember their names.”
Me: “Julianne Moore was in The Big Lebowski, too.”
Friend: “Do you know she’s over 60?”
Me: “She must have had work done.”
Friend: “Well, it doesn’t show. Now Dolly Parton, some others, it shows.”
Friend: “I haven’t had work done and I don’t look like Dolly Parton. You can’t be big-chested and erect if you know what I mean. My skin is getting creepy.”
Me: “You mean crepey.”
Friend: “No, I mean creepy. I don’t have to wear a mask for Halloween.”
Me: “Do you think you have brain fog?”
Friend: “Brain fog. What’s that?”
Me: “When you can’t remember anything or think clearly.”
Friend: “My mind used to be a steel trap. Now it’s a rusty sieve. Is that brain fog?”
Me: “No, I think that’s normal.”
The waiter appears table side, pad in the embossed leather holder in hand. “And what would you ladies like to eat?”
Friend, looking at me: “What did I want to eat?”
Me: “I’ll have what she’s having.”
SingingFrogPress
Thanks for this Sharon. I was laughing out loud all the way through it!
Cheryl Layne West
Verybatch?- I think? I can relate at age soon-to- be 72, with also creepy skin, creeping downward. Isn’t gravity a bitch?