I suck on my teeth, thinking through all that I know about that sort of thing. Many people do vision boards, and I’ve never understood the craze behind them. What’s the point in taking time to glue pictures of things you want but don’t have onto a board that you’ll throw into a closet and never look at?
“Vision boards are an essential practice for manifestation,” Lanie says, looking up at me. “Now that you have an awakened ability, you should be able to manifest easily.”
“That sounds like…fun?”
“It is, and it’s also an extremely important practice,” she says, searching through a pouch of markers for who knows what. “One that I want to share with my best friends.”
I smile at her because it’s rare that she’s even remotely sentimental. Whether I believe or understand the purpose of vision boards, I’ll happily partake in this activity to humor my best friend. Based on the copious amount of supplies she’s carrying around, she’s put some thought into this.
“Okay, so aside from the boards, what else do we need?”
She waves her hand in the air. “All taken care of. Corinne’s bringing the expired magazines from the spa over, and I have markers and glue guns in my bag.” She rifles through her large tote, presumably searching for the supplies. “You just concentrate on the snacks and keeping the booze flowing.”
“So it’s gonna be one of those nights?”
“It’s Thursday,” she deadpans. “Girls’ night is always one ofthosenights.”
She would not be wrong. The whole point of Thursday is to get together and put our shit week behind us. Which almost always includes a few drinks.
For the next twenty minutes, I gather the food and set it up in the great room as she creates workstations for each of us. A board, thick black marker, and pair of scissors is placed at each spot on the floor. The glue guns are set up in the kitchen.
“I’m very impressed, Lanie. You’ve really gone all out with this,” I say, looking around at her setup.
She shrugs. “This practice is important to me. Believe it or not, this will be my fifth board, and every year I receive more of the things I’ve added.”
I’m about to pry into the things she’s received when Corinne saunters into the room carrying a stack of magazines.
“Can you put those in there?” Lanie says, pointing to the great room where the boards and supplies have been set up.
“Hello to you too, Lanie,” Corinne grates, moving right past us, heading straight for the great room.
We watch from the kitchen as she tosses the magazines into the center of the makeshift circle of stations. They scatter everywhere, but she doesn’t bother to straighten them. She’s too busy checking out the setup.
“You’re looking fancy today, Cori,” Lanie says, eyeing her up and down.
Corinne has clearly come straight from the spa. She’s wearing her signature black slacks and white blouse with trumpet sleeves.
“I’m changing,” she says, heading straight toward the bathroom, still not bothering with greetings.
Not that we were any better.
Nina is the last to arrive, fashionably late, which is not her MO. She’s carrying a tray of cookies in the shape of clocks. I lift an eyebrow, and she shakes her head, looking exasperated.
“Lanie,” she explains, tilting her head down at the cookie platter. “I was tasked with bringing New Year–inspired cookies.”
I chuckle, looking between the plate and Nina. “Clocks?”
She shrugs. “They represent the countdown. What else signifies New Year’s?”
“You’ve got me there.” I tap my chin. “The only thing that comes to mind for me is champagne.”
Her mouth drops open. “Good one. I should’ve done that.”
I wave a hand in the air. “I think your clocks are cute.”
“And very thoughtful,” Lanie says, making her way toward Nina.
I grab the tray of cookies and place it on the counter as Lanie envelops Nina in a hug that has me questioning if something has happened and I missed the memo.
