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Girl’s Day for Middle-Aged Women

I recently enjoyed my first “Girl’s Day” in years, and let me tell ya… it was magical. Unfortunately, it’s likely the last one I’ll have in a while.

Kristina Etter
4 min readJun 21, 2022


I’ll be the first to admit… I am not the easiest woman to befriend. I work from home, don’t drive, and live an hour from civilization in a remote area of the Rocky Mountains. So, it takes a certain sense of adventure to even meet me. Strike one in the “How to Make Friends” handbook.

I don’t like shopping. In fact, I don’t like spending money. I don’t adhere to the rules of capitalism and couldn’t care less about the latest trends or fashions. Strike two.

My son is grown, I’m beyond my child-bearing years, and I was never the woman who goes spastic over babies, anyway. Strike three.

Finally, I am an opinionated introvert who enjoys reading and learning. I enjoy passionate discussions on current events and deep intellectual conversations riddled with sarcasm and dark humor. I rarely drink, but I smoke a lot of weed and never leave the house without my husband. Game over.

I am not “a woman’s woman” or a “girly-girl.” Basically, I’m the tomboy who grew up to become a woman.

A Beacon of Light

My friend Amanda and I joke about the big beacon that led her to my house. And while we say it jest, I believe there’s a little underlying truth to it because she and I bonded almost immediately.

She and her husband found our disc golf course online and dropped in unexpectedly one beautiful fall day. As we talked, we learned that we all grew up within about 50 miles of each other in small-town Iowa and now live 50 miles apart in small-town Colorado. Oh, the synchronicity.

For the first time in a long time, I found a kindred spirit — a woman who enjoys the finer things in life like digging in the dirt, looking for pretty rocks, mocking societal norms with belly laughs and deep sarcasm while solving all the world’s problems from my kitchen table.

She did more than simply listen; she understood. So, you can only imagine the pit in my stomach when she told me she was moving out of state. Heart. Broken.



Kristina Etter

Gypsy-spirited | Hypervigilent | Freelance Creator