A Fiesta of Swirly Skirts: 2006
What do you get when eleven women with strong personalities and divergent opinions converge at a vacation house on a hill overlooking Santa Fe for four days? You get some things that you expect: spontaneous laughter, cathartic tears, and catching up. Just like sorority days in Gravois’ room reading “the manual,” we were all atwitter to hear about Beverly’s new male interest; we mourned with Gladys over the loss of her dear and lovely mother, and we listened raptly to 35 years of Margie’s exotic and vagabond life complete with Moroccan ambassadors, no less!!
You also get some things you don’t expect: confessions and yes, even after 35 years of friendship, discoveries. One of the printable discoveries: three of us pee in the shower. Also discovered: eight of us find that shocking.
And of course you get endless discussions regarding itineraries, schedules, and logistics. As Suzanne quipped, “having fun is such hard work!” Thank goodness for the calming balance provided by Faye and Dixie.
First priorities were living arrangements. It was a natural for Margie, who was joining the thongs for the first time, to match up with Beverly. They had shared a room in Spain. Also in the basement were Tina, Suzanne, and Louise. Towing 40 pounds of luggage, Suzanne looked in dismay around the room with no closets or floor space.
“I’ve never had to live without closets before.”
“Where will you undress?” teased Tina.
“I think I’ll opt for the yoga room and sofa bed,” decided Louise.
Linda needed to be upstairs and Gladys needed to be in a bed by herself because she has a habit of stripping naked if she gets hot. We all burst into laughter the first morning Linda came padding in to breakfast wearing what she called her “combat gear.” The night before she had turned on the fan and thrown open all the windows to the chilly night air.
“I didn’t want Gladys to get too hot; Heaven knows what might happen.”
Nights were chilly as Tina, Gladys and Charlotte discovered the first midnight out on the patio, wrapped in blankets and shivering beneath stars, but unable to sever the connection. The patio alone was worth the price of the house. With umbrellas unfurled for shade, it overlooked blue mountains during the day and at night the lights of Santa Fe shimmered across the valley below. Coming from more humid climates, we breathed deep of air so light we felt lofted with the swallows that soared in the breeze.
Sunday night, the eve of Memorial Day, our patio chattering, drinking, laughing came to a hush as the distant strains of taps wafted up from the cemetery below. The haunting notes of the trumpet evoked our own memorial day observance. Gladys tearfully paid homage to her mother; Betty broke down while recounting a poignant story of her brother George marking her father’s death by taking his flag to Alaska. We all mourned with Louise the loss of Bubba who was a dear husband and good friend. We grieved together in the starlight and the wind the many losses, all of whom we have known or loved whether as immediate or extended family. Tina said she always felt when she went places of beauty that she took her father with her and he got to be there, too.
“They’re all here with the stars,” whispered Louise, looking up.
But with these reunions, we are creating so many new memories as well: Suzanne forgetting she had put a tray of bagels in to toast until Tina discovered the oven on fire, the nudist bathers (Charlotte quit staring) margaritas on the way to mass (pre communion), Beverly’s rock (self explanatory), Gladys as personal shopper (“get both!”), Betty as tour director (like herding cats), Louise booking her flight for the wrong day (something we all worry about as we click “purchase”). We will remember touring the Taos pueblo, continuously inhabited for thousands of years, hot springs and Indian ruins, hiking tent rock to stand in awe above a 360 view of desert and mountains. We’ll remember inspiring images of Georgia O’Keefe and her amazing paintings, blue tortillas and margaritas, dreams of a Tuscan villa inspired by buying a powerball ticket, and of course . . . swirly skirts! Or as bartended extraordinaire, Linda, calls them, “swizzle skirts.”
At Grove Park Inn, we made an impression with Tina’s gift of flashing rings for us all; this year we swirled into Gladys’ restaurant, like senoritas at a fiesta.
Wherever Thongs gather—beach, mountain, or desert—it’s always a fiesta.