Lunch with an old friend

Lunch with an old friend who has found herself in "the family way."

So funny to me tonight how she cupped her mouth to ask WHAT KIND OF breast pump I USED.

This, from the same friend, with whom I dined years ago, in the small dining room at Vincent's, that accommodates no more than 4 tables of 2, as we feasted on fried oysters with angel hair and too many glasses of wine to count, swapped titillating and candid tales of our exploits, oblivious to the poor other-diners in ear shot, until the last bit of mascapone was gone, and we were too drunk to care...our giggling glances at the others equal parts indifference, and accusation at them for listening on what was clearly a private conversation.

Ah, how times have changed. Welcome to the world where your body parts are no longer your own. Wondering what topics our next dinner at Vincent's will yield.