Last night I went in to Lisbon to eat dinner at a friend's house. It was a Just Us Girls evening, and it was a lot of fun. Dinner was simple, but nice, and mostly we just sat around and talked about men and shopping and sex and other girly things. Honestly, I cannot remember the last time I've laughed so hard and so often.

In fact, all that laughter put me in a good mood that has carried through all day. I am resolved to laugh more often and more loudly. The trick is finding the triggers. Luckily, thinking about some of the stories told last night should last me a while.

Two out of the five of us are pregnant with a first child (and one of those is due in January), and another one is having IVF, so I'm wondering if we'll ever do it again, once the babies start to arrive and lives start changing. It would be nice to get pregnant right about now, actually-- I'd have plenty of company, that's for sure. Also, I now know where to obtain a leopard print maternity bra and thong set. Both of the preggos refuse to order it. I don't see why not-- I sure as hell would. Ah well. Moot point. Wonderful evening, though.

One of my friends is.... Well, she's a real piece of work, for one thing. I love her to death, but I would imagine she frightens most men, her husband most definitely included. She is one of the pregnant ones, and she has informed (Ordered!) her husband that she is expecting an eternity ring before the birth. "I just told him that I'll lie there in the hospital with my legs closed tight until it's on my finger." This is the same woman who was so delighted with her engagement ring that she told her husband to be that he would never have to buy her another piece of jewelry, ever. Her mother told her that was a stupid thing to say, but quite frankly I doubt that her husband believed that one. If he did then, he doesn't now, that's for sure. She also told us about meeting one of her husband's teenage girlfriends at a school reunion. Congratulating him on his (apparently) narrow escape: "Just look how hen- pecked her poor husband is! Just think, that could be you." That one had us all rolling, even her. There's nothing quite like a nice bit of irony. Her theory, by the way, is that her husband enjoys having someone boss him around and generally tell him what to do. "He has a Portuguese mother, you see, and you know how they are." We then expressed worry about her unborn son ending up like his father: "I know, I know. The poor boy." She is convinced that he will turn out to be either an interior decorator or a hairdresser. I'll buy that. She wouldn't mind either: "I quite like having my hair done."

Elvis, on the other hand, did not get home and go directly to the gym, as advertised. Instead, he went directly to the pub and got well and truly plastered. So instead of going straight home when I got back from Lisbon, I went straight to the pub to take him home safely. He was of the "cute little boy, better take him home and put him to bed" variety of drunkeness-- as opposed to the "better drag him out of here before there's a fight" variety-- so that was OK. I had a glass of wine and shot some darts while waiting for him to drink his bottle of water and eat another toastie (a very good idea, I might add). Shame I didn't get there earlier, as I was shooting well.

In fact, I threw a 180! Busted my score, but once I hit the first two, damned if I was going to stop there, so I went for it and got it. It felt good! I haven't thrown a 180 in years. To avoid throwing a 26 directly afterwards, and also because Elvis was finished and ready to go, we left soon after. Always leave on an up note, that's what I say.

I hope I shoot well again tonight, but you know it'll never happen. It never does, does it? Good thing I had witnesses. Relatively sober ones, at that.

We did not get up at the crack of dawn today, which is pretty darn unsurprising, since we didn't get to bed until half past two. I was up at eight, Elvis at nine thirty-- good thing he racked up some extra hours earlier in the week. He didn't seem to be nearly as bad off as I expected, which was good.

I went to the gym and worked my ass off (literally, I hope), which was also good.