It was a frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
For those who are unaware, Betty Fokker came into being as part of a group of women who all read the same blog, who all had a “Betty name” so that we could post in anonymity if so desired. “Betty” was the chosen appellation because “Betty” has traditionally been a moniker for a beautiful and awesome woman.
Yesterday some Betties lunched together in a central location, and it turns out they are as super-duper in real life as they are when they are merely words on the interwebs. There was me, Darth Betty (who got me involved with the Betties in the first place and whom I have know for a long time), Chronic Betty, (who is the Mayor of Goodreads, y’all), and Betty Crocker (who has three girls just like me, but hers are all grown up now).
Here is a picture:
Starting from the left is Chronic Betty in green, me with my back to the camera to preserve my air of mystery, Betty Crocker, and Darth Betty. Just so my friends/readers in the UK know, I’m making a “peace” sign, which I know it is very rude where you are but I promise it’s not naughty over here at all. I just didn’t think it through before throwing my hand up. Go figure. Hmmm … and now I realize that my second finger is obscured by the wall color, so it looks like I am making a rude American gesture.
There was much fun had that day. There was laughter and stories and camaraderie and literary analysis and frank discussions of preferred sexual positions and even politics. In short, all the things you would assume would get discussed with the Fokker at the table. Then they went with me to find a new shirt, because I need a dress-casual top for when I guest lecture at a university in a few weeks. New tops act like a confidence wig, allowing you to bamboozle college students (which Lilo calls “collegers”) into thinking you are all adult and shit. Betty Crocker brought me stuff in the dressing room, so she has seen me in all my granny-panties glory. Envy her.
A good time was had by all.