I have a group of gal pals who do the Komen Race for the Cure every year. We do the race route twice, walking all 10 K, mind you. Then we go get pedicures, lunch, and drinks. It’s become a tradition of sorts.
My first Race for the Cure was for Susan, whom I had read about but never met. I have since met her and think she’s courageous, wicked smart, generous, funny, and so on top of things she could be queen sherpa on Everest.
Then there’s Jen. My friend from graduate school who floors me with her flighty nature, poignant observations, and fierce loyalty. She’s wonderfully sarcastic, witty, preppy as hell, and a whiz with words.
My gal pals and I are participating in the Avon Breast Cancer Walk this weekend in Washington, DC. We have all been touched by breast cancer and felt the overwhelming need to Just. Do. Something. We figured we should use our cherished girls’ weekend time to walk for a cure. Sure, there won’t be any late nights of gabbing over bottles of wine or dancing like no one was watching, but we’ll be all the stronger to know that together, we will indeed make a difference. We each raised over $1800 and will walk 26.2 miles on Saturday and 13.1 miles on Sunday to raise money to help breast cancer patients get the medical care they need, regardless of their ability to pay, and help in the ongoing search for a cure.
I can’t even begin to walk a step in Susan and Jen’s shoes, but I can walk 39 miles in their honor.
Pink Ladies
Pink lemonade
Rain Organic lavender lemonade vodka
Cointreau
Fresh mint leaves
Fill a tall acrylic or other non-breakable glass with ice (cuz this is drink to be sipped al fresco, and I’d hate for there to be breakage). Pour in a shot of Rain lavender lemonade vodka. Fill with pink lemonade. Top with a splash of Cointreau. Give it stir. Plop in a few mint sprigs if you want to be all pink and green preppy like my friend Jen. Gaze into the skies to absorb the vastness of life and our place in it to channel astrophysicist Susan.
I know we’ll be enjoying one of these cool cocktails after we walk 39 miles this weekend. And you can bet we’ll be sipping al fresco with our feet bared and propped up with dreams of Bradley Cooper massaging them.
