Bachelorette parties are good for the soul

There is something that happens when a bunch of girls get together in heels and cocktail dresses.

It's not excessive drinking and smoking. Or insane amounts of squealing. Or karaoke. Or 32 Marilyn Monroe-billowing-dress photo ops.

All those things may have happened, but despite my best efforts (lots of champagne and two dirty martinis) they are not what has stuck with me three days after my dear friend's bachelorette party Saturday.

What has: the crazy amounts of positive energy women can generate under certain circumstances. Put us in an office and we complain, complain, complain about our bus ride in, the printer, our pen running out of ink.

Now, I am not a yoga-mat toting, Arizmendi-loving, life-is-wonderful wannabe hippie. Get me in a car on 19th Avenue and no one is safe from ... well, the things I will yell inside my car.

But back to Saturday. We complimented each other. We talked about how great things were--from our outfits to our new jobs to our babies. And we poured endless amounts of affection on our BFF in the boa and tiara.

My question is: Why can't we channel some of this into other parts of our lives? I know celebrations are all about celebrating. It's what you do. But this level of warm fuzzy doesn't happen at all celebrations.

Example #1: Your friend's kid's 3-year-old birthday party. Presents. Cake. Cuteness. Car.

Example #2: Weddings. If you're not crying, you're probably talking out the side of your mouth or sending someone else to the bar to preserve your GWs.

Example #3: Baby showers. Do we really have to smell the baby food? Can I get another cupcake?

All I'm saying is that we need to remember to boost each other up more often. The feeling will last for days.

Or we could dress up and drink lots of champagne and martinis for no good reason.

I think this was how people used to do it.

An engagement party to call home about

It's not often I run into people I know at the airport. Taking the same flight. Sitting in the row ahead of me.

But oh yes, in June Tim and I ran into two great friends doing the exact same thing as we were--taking a red eye to Boston to visit family. Our guy friend ended up proposing to our gal friend on that trip, and we started thinking back on the flight: Did he look nervous? Did she know?

Two weekends ago we were invited to celebrate the engagement with their friends and family at the May Flower Restaurant on Geary Street in San Francisco. Although it has only been around since 1991 (according to the website), this restaurant is a Richmond District institution and definitely a tradition for our friends' family.

The website boasts authentic Cantonese food, live and fresh seafood and dim sum. Oh, we didn't have a clue.

Highlights from the 10-course meal:

Geese feet. Lobster. Fish Stomach lining. Peking duck. Shark fin soup.

I was going to warn you, but then, well, I didn't. Shark fin soup? I know. I know. I know.

When I asked what kind of shark it was, my new friend next to me smiled wickedly and said, "Great white." Soooooooooo evil.

Then she told me Bald Eagle was up next.

I countered: albino alligator? No? Not funny? Not funny.

This ended up being the most authentic Chinese meal either of us had ever had, with some of the warmest, friendliest, funniest people we've ever met. We haven't had that much fun in a long time.

And then, of course, there were the scorpion bowls that ended the evening.




Here's to a happy year of planning for our lovely friends!