The name originates from our tendency to frequent restaurants that serve chips and salsa, and drinks with salty rims. Conference officially commences as the Chicas arrive and I greet them in the driveway with a fanatical, “CHICAAAAA!” The neighbors know it’s on.
The night’s activities begin with dinner and maybe a movie or show. Later, we return to my house where the only rule is there are no rules. We do, however, adhere to our own set of by-laws, most written at past Conferences after libations were in full swing.
Section I, Article 1 of our by-laws states, “The gathering of the Chicas should be amongst Chicas and no others. The gathering does NOT include men.” One exception is my better half who has earned the noteworthy title of “Honorary Chica” for being a good sport when the real Chicas take over our house, but he usually opts for a night away during our Conference.
Because carpooling is involved - and because certain women tend to seriously overpack - Section II, Article 2 stipulates that “in packing for a Chica gathering, one bag is allowed unless weather conditions are questionable, then two bags are allowed.”
Section III, Article 1 solidifies the Conference will provide a reprieve from all obligations and responsibilities of our daily lives and states, “Once a Chica is at a gathering, it must be respected that she is without husband and child and anything goes.”
Back at my house after dinner and entertainment, the kitchen table becomes our gathering point. The living room turns into a dance floor as 70s and 80s music plays in the background. Section IX, Article 1 specifies that “all reverence will be given to disco and the 80s.”
Although playing games is always on the agenda, I can’t divulge any more than that because I’m bound by Section IV, Article 2, “What happens with Chicas stays with Chicas. Amen.” I’m not sure how this by-law became a prayer with the amen at the end, but it is in writing, so it’s gospel.
The Chicas take our liquid refreshments seriously, prompting Section VI, Articles 1 and 2 in our by-laws. 1) “If no Coors Light longnecks are available, cans are acceptable,” and 2) “If only no-name Vodka is available, no Vodka will be consumed as the Chicas deserve better than that #*$@!”
It goes without saying, spilled drinks must be replaced without delay. And while we’re on the subject, how many Chicas does it take to open a bottle of wine when the corkscrew is misplaced? Answer: Two. One to stand on a chair gouging the cork in desperation and the other to throttle the bottle in a death grip. Lesson learned: Always have a spare corkscrew.
As day breaks over the dance-floor-turned-sleeping-quarters, we gradually come to life. We breakfast over morning-after pizza and chew over the highlights of the evening. By then we’re finally awake enough to make sure one Vera Bradley Cut Vines bag doesn’t get mixed up with the other Bramble Vines bag, and sort out which refreshments to take home and which to leave behind.
The 2019 Spring Chica Conference is a wrap. We saw “On Your Feet,” a musical about the life of one of our 80s idols, Gloria Estefan, and stayed up way too late jamming to Latin beats and forming our own Conga line on the living room dance floor.
We also started the all-important planning for the only gathering that is sure to eclipse our Spring Conference – our Fall Chica Convention!