The evolution of girl friends

My mother, who turned 70 this past August, has a close friend who lives in Barcelona. How cool is that? Yvonne is probably in her 50's-60's (I don't want to commit to an exact age. She might have some choice words for me if I do.) She and my mom used to be neighbors but when Yvonne's husband got work in Europe, Yvonne had to move. And to make it even worse, Yvonne sold her house in Hawaii and will be moving to Washington when her husband's work in Barcelona is over. Thank goodness for the Internet. They email each other regularly. Even though Mom isn't living with me anymore, when we talk on the phone, I'll read Mom's emails to her and then take dictation for the replies. Sometimes they'll write about how the grand kids are getting so big. They marvel about how this one is already talking, or the other one has outgrown their shoes after only 3 months. But that's a distraction.

Invariably, their bulk of their emails is about food.

Yvonne always writes about her access to fabulous seafood, fresh market produce, and exotic restaurants. Mom counters with all the home cooking and local foods that Yvonne cannot find in Barcelona -- things like pancit bihon, manapua, chicken adobo, and Loraine Lau's laulau. (We ate the last of the Lau's laulau last month and so I'm begging my mom to call Loraine as soon as she deplanes in Honolulu. Loraine makes the best laulau. Broke da mout!)

My husband teases me every time I facilitate an email exchange between my mother and her friend. He says that someday it'll be me with my friends comparing produce and side dishes on the phone.

A few years ago, I remember having a mild freak out when my friend Charlotte, whom I've known since we were both 14 years old, gave me a recipe for a dip. A dip recipe! That was something my mother always did with her friends. Now that Char & I are old married ladies and mothers, we no longer talk about shoes, boys, makeup, shoes, which of the Duran Duran guys would make the best husband, and what's the new black. (And if you think I put in shoes twice by accident, you clearly don't know me personally.) None of that. Now we're exchanging casserole recipes and tips on how to get wine stains out of Berber carpet.

I hope that I remain an interesting person as time goes on. I'd hate to think that after we stop exchanging recipes, stain removal tips, and bragging/complaining about our kid's schoolwork/homework/sports/activities, all we'll be left with to talk about is what we had for dinner last night.

But what if it is already too late? What if conversation devolving into talking only about food is the only safe road? I mean, we don't talk religion, politics, or finances. Is that what is going on? Is that why we become "boring"?