The Original Prankster

When I taught high school, we had a very young staff. We came from all walks of life, speaking different languages and citizens of different countries. Whether by design or accident, the three English speaking teachers were placed in a grouping in the middle of the teacher work room. I, the American on the right, my British colleague on my left, and my Canadian co-teacher directly across from me. We got along famously. We were all in our twenties, and our sense of humor not only matched but lent itself to escalation on a weekly basis.

My British coworker had a very large personality. The more he laid on the bullshit, the more we responded. I have never been one to back down from a challenge, and to hear someone brag about their prankster abilities is just plain asking for it.

We pulled a lot of crazy shit the two years I worked at the school. It got to the point that we had to lock our keyboards down when we left the room so that others wouldn't hop on your desktop and change your settings. I am sure that our antics were not appreciated by all who shared a workspace with us, but we had a blast.

One incident I am particularly proud of involves my British colleague and his immigration paperwork. In order to secure our working papers, all of us had to collect the information from our employer, make an appointment with the Swedish immigration office and go through the process of proving the status of our employment. Basically, getting our green card.

On the day my British colleague had his appointment, he had brought his UK passport to work along with all of the other masses of legal work to turn in at his interview. Being the immature group of friends that we were, we passed around his passport, good-naturedly making fun of his photo and telling him immigration horror stories. As he ran around frantically finishing up his classes for the day, I printed some photo of a celebrity off of the internet. I can't remember who it was now, but my friend is biracial, and this person in no way, shape or form resembled him. While he was out of the workroom, I cut out the photograph and taped it over the photo in his UK passport. I took scotch tape and neatly taped the whole thing down. The entire room was in absolute hysterics. It looked awesomely real except that it wasn't him. I stuffed everything into his backpack and studiously tapped at my keyboard barely seconds before my friend ran back in the room. He grabbed his backpack, told us to wish him luck and ran for the train.

I think I cried I was laughing so hard.

Several hours passed, and we could barely contain our curiosity. No one had heard from him. His mobile was switched off, and we didn't know how long his appointment would take. I was completely unprepared when I felt a rucksack smack me in the back of the head. My friend had returned and was laughing his ass off. He told us how he stood in line at the immigration office. That when they called his name he dutifully handed over his passport and paperwork. The immigration officer opened the passport only to find some crazy-eyed white dude staring back at him. Scotch tape and all.

For anyone who says Swedish immigration agents have no sense of humor, this incident sets the record straight. My British friend IMed me on Facebook today, and throughout the course of our conversation reminded me of this incident. I had completely forgotten about it until this afternoon. I cannot for the life of me remember how or why I ever thought to pull such a prank, but my friend and I agree it is one of the best memories of our friendship.

One Is Silver and the Other Gold

Today is going to be a treat. My oldest friend is in DC this week, and after having met her for dinner last night, she is coming to hang with me at my house this afternoon.

We met in the first grade. I was five, and we made it through eight years of parochial school together. We maintained our friendship despite different high schools in different states. Even after a rough patch in college we came out on the other side and haven't looked back.

The last time we saw each other, she and her mom had come to Tahoe specifically for LittleMan's baptism. LittleMan was only three weeks old at the time. Just a blob that leaked bodily fluid from every orifice. Now, he is two-and-a-half, an actual person. To say I am excited to go and pick her up from the train station in an understatement.

Both of our older children are just shy of the age we were when we first met. There is something very Circle of Life-esque about the whole thing. Unlike this friend, this one actually called me months in advance and made sure we had the chance to see each other.

The point of this rambling is that there is something to be said for friendships forged in childhood. They know you. They've seen the journey you've taken. You don't have to explain or justify. If someone has hung around for this amount of time, no matter how tough life is or how badly things have been going you know there is some spark to your personality that draws them back to you. In these transient times, that is a valuable lesson to remember.

Killer Tigers, Freecycle and Disney

One day, a badass blogger in Tahoe met a kindred blogging spirit and shared a little inspiration over a wronged tiger.

Eventually, badass Tahoe Blogger ends up in a new state. She discovers an active Freecyle community and revels in the generosity of these free-spirited folk.

Come today, a disheartened NATUI takes her preschooler to the dentist to fill her first cavity. Though she is excited because she scored a gorgeous toddler bed for her LittleMan, the events of the past few days weigh heavily on her heart.

Until she gets home and goes through her email. She sees something from her blogging tiger-loving pal, and can't understand why she has used that email address.

NATUI reads and blinks. Why is Poetic License commenting on an email that NATUI received from her Freecycle gal pal?

Because in a twist that would put Disney into full cardiac arrest, NATUI's free-spirited Freecycle friend and neighbor knows Poetic License in real life.

That's right, folks. My good friend and through-the-back-fence neighbor works with and is friends with Poetic License.

I haven't stopped grinning or humming all afternoon. It's a small world ladies and gentlemen. You just can't make this shit up.

Stubborn is a Chick Named Vi

One thing I loved about getting to know my Gramma as an adult was seeing the adult side of her. Not sweet little gramma I saw on the outside, but the chick inside.

That spunky girl that she still sees when she looks in the mirror.

My gramma used to smoke. A lot. In fact, she was still a smoker when she told me this story.

I knew my grampa did not like the fact that she smoked. It never bothered me. It was a part of her. He hated it.

Apparently, as the story goes, my Gramma was off to go drinking and dancing with her sisters. Back in the day.

And back in the day, she hid her cigarettes in her box of tampons because she new her husband would never look there.

As she got ready, she snuck them into her coat pocket and was all ready to head out. But she ran back to the bathroom for a last minute pee break before getting on the bus.

She came out of the bathroom to find her entire pack of cigarettes crumbled into tiny little bits in a path from the bathroom door to the front door.

Without looking at my Grampa, not even missing a beat she calmly grabbed her coat and walked out the door.

She left that path of mutilated tobacco leaves and paper sit on the carpet for a week.

She never cleaned it up.

Finally, one day, it disappeared. They never talked about it. And do not believe my Grampa never tried that stunt again.

Goddamn my Gramma is an awesome lady.

Color Me Surprised

I am very hard to surprise. It isn't that I do not like to be surprised because I do. It isn't because I try like the dickens to snoop around and find out what is going on because I don't.

I am very hard to surprise because people usually can't keep their mouths shut and ruin it for me ahead of time. That coupled with the fact that my Hubbie is really bad about planning or thinking ahead means that I very rarely am surprised with something nice.

We got back to DC last night. Imagine my surprise this evening when going through the mail that I had a card from a certain blogger friend. Inside, was this:


I am so touched. She says she thought of me when she saw it so bought it for me.

People, no one does this for me. Ever.

My family and I are like this with people, but it is a rare day when someone thinks of me and follows through with something like this.

Friends have been in short order lately. I know I am going through a phase in my life that is causing many friendships to be in flux. I just want to say how grateful and wonderfully surprised I am by this token of friendship. I wear it with honor.

Now, Hubbie is waiting for me in the shower and the kids are asleep. WooHoo! LOL

And You Can Be My Cowgirl

Today, the bonds of friendship will be tightened like a steel trap or strained like the button on my waistband after a 3am visit to IHOP.

I have my yearly appointment with my surgeon.

Hubbie is in DC and cannot come for moral support.

CoalMiner Heather is going to be his proxy.

That's right. This afternoon it's stirrups and paper gowns with a side of vaginal ultrasound.

And CoalMiner Heather gets to be the lucky girl to help me through it.

We have the same surgeon, see. We refer to him as Dr. Miracle. He is one talented motherfucker but can be a bit overbearing at times. For all my bluster, I need a bit of moral support. Something about having a bare ass hanging off the end of a table seems to rob me of any verbal coherence.

Don't worry, though. I'll be updating with photographic evidence of the worst kind. Hell, two bloggers in a room with multi-million dollar ultrasound equipment, tongue depressors and swabs? Bitch, please.

Who Are You?

A recent conversation with FormerBFF left me with paradigm-shifting realizations and deep questions.

FormerBFF is a nutjob when it come to keeping her house clean. She is always on the go. With her job. With her kids. With household projects.

During the course of this particular conversation, FormerBFF talked about her mom's lack of motivation (of which I already knew), her lack of financial planning (also not new news), and the fact that said mom's house is a "shit house".

Her mom is a pack rat of phenomenal proportions. So is the husband.

Which leads me to wonder.

Who is FormerBFF?

Does she have the life she has because she wants it? Or is she so terrified of being her mom that she lives her life in direct opposition regardless of how sick, stressed or unhappy it makes her?

Where do we draw the line in becoming a happy, balanced person who learns from our own mistakes and the mistakes of others? Doing a 180 and doing the opposite to the extreme is not the healthy answer.

As much as FormerBFF picks apart the behaviors of others, I wonder if she has ever looked at herself.

I doubt it.

I want to ask.

But I won't.

Because I don't think she'd tell me the truth.

And she has hurt me so much that I just don't care anymore.

Every New Beginning

"Time for you to go back to the places you will be from"
-Closing Time, Semisonic

Not exactly his style of music, but this post is dedicated to Chris in Oxford. He has been in flux, you see.

Vacillating between feeling like a Kickass Adventurer and someone who is losing his mind, he and Dr. O'C are moving their family half-way around the world to Adelaide.

I suppose for the moment we should call him Chris in Coach because he and his family are currently somewhere over the Pacific wedged between Snoring Old Geezer and Sighing Sara who humphs through her nose every time poor Zach expresses himself or needs a diaper change. That's my guess anyway.

Go on over to his place and give him a shout out. Life with a baby is chaotic enough. Moving said baby and family around the world is fucking heroic. Show Chris, Dr. O'C and Zach a little love. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end, man.

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Semisonic - Closing Time
Chuck Willis - Coming In On A Wing and A Prayer

If You Have Three Trains Travelling

I never could figure out the math questions talking about trains. I hated them. They gave me a headache, and I have dreaded those types of questions on exams ever since.

I should have paid more attention.

I feel very discombobulated right now. I feel split in three. There is the part of me that feels like I am still up in the High Sierras. That I should be able to look out the window and see all that was familiar to me.

There is the part of me that feels like I should still be at my parent's house. Visiting a childhood home is always a bit of a mindfuck anyway. To be there almost an entire month, trying to be a parent to your own children while your parents treat you like a child, wreaks havoc on one's psyche.

Now there is the third me. The new me. In my new town. In my new life. So much of the past few months have been hurry up and wait. Now I am here. I am lonely. I am sad. I don't even know where to start. Unpack boxes? Take the kids to the park? The store?

I am trying to create stability for them.

All I really want to do it take a nap.

I know this will pass, and I will regain a sense of who I am. Of where I am. It always gets better. It always could be worse.

All I want is for someone to come over and have a cup of coffee with me.

WWYD?

Let me throw something out here at you. I know you aren't Jesus, but I was wondering what you would do. (Actually, Jesus, if you are reading this, I would appreciate your input just as much).

I found myself contemplating a situation which unfolded a few days ago. Let me state that I am not upset by it. Just unsettled. I believe it is one of those things that because I would not have done it I am not sure what "proper" form would be. Here is the scenario. Tell me what you think:

PreggoFriend came over with her husband and OlderChild. Her husband offered to watch all the kids so the two womenfolk could grab something to eat and have a little chat. Not one to turn down a free sitter, we ran.

After dinner, I paid for her meal because it was awesome that she came down to see me. I also ordered an extra meal to go for her husband so that he would have dinner to bring home since he hadn't eaten. I paid for that, too.

When we got home, it turns out my dad had invited my friend's husband to stay for a steak dinner he was making. So my dad threw out this huge spread, and when we saw this I put the food we brought home in the fridge.

When it was time for them to go, there was lots of crying and chaos from the kids and I never gave them the food. I remembered later on that night, and I thought Well, my dad fed him a huge meal here at home, so that's cool. Oooooh! Now I'll have a yummy lunch tomorrow! WooHoo!

I talked to PreggoFriend on the phone the next morning, never having looked in the fridge. I mentioned something about the forgotten food, and PreggoFriend said Oh no! We came back and got it.

Huh? (I really said that.)

She continued: Oh yeah. We got in the car and were going to drive off when we remembered. So we came back in the house and took the food out of the fridge.

Huh? (This one was in my head.)

So, what is the etiquette here? We ended up feeding him, so should he have taken the other meal? And, if they had indeed forgotten the meal, was it bad form to come back into the house and take the food and walk out with it?

Hubbie and I both agree that if the situation were reversed, we would not have even asked for the restaurant take-out since we would have already eaten. And we certainly would not have walked back into the house and taken it if we had forgotten it.

What would you guys have done? What do you think about it?

Harder and Harder To Breathe

LittleBird has her last playdate tomorrow with her bestest friend in the whole wide world. They are leaving to visit their family in Tokyo, and we will not see them again before we move. They come over every Thursday, and this is our last one.

I happened to run into my friend at the grocery store this afternoon. I am never at the grocery store, but we happened to meet up. It was like a movie. Our girls saw each other, squealed with delight, ran across the front of the store and hugged each other. They held hands and danced around our shopping carts the entire time we shopped. It was all I could do to keep from sobbing.

The closer we get to our move date, the harder this is becoming. Tomorrow is going to be just horrible. I can't even breathe just thinking about it. It makes my heart hurt.

He Answered

It took a few days, but I actually got a response to the letter I sent the father of my deceased classmate. I have to admit, I felt very nervous when I saw his email in my Inbox. I was hoping I hadn't overstepped any boundaries. Here is what he wrote:

Dear M,

Thanks for the nice and highly readable letter. It struck a responsive chord in me. You are very nice and very kind to send me this lovely letter.

K. is always on our mind; if she changed the path of your life for the better, we are extremely delighted.

With kind regards,

T. S., M.D.

I am still processing how I feel. It has been so many years. I feel I have waited so long to accomplish this. I can now say that I have succeeded in my goal. Strangely, it feels a bit anti-climactic just now. I do not know what I was expecting. He wrote a very kind letter, and I am thrilled that it was the right family. And that he did not chew my head off for bringing up such a sad truth in their lives. I think because it is so sad is precisely why I feel a bit off. I didn't change anything. K. is still gone.

I am sure I will feel better about this in time. I just wanted to share with you my success in telling her family how I felt. That he actually wrote back. And that sometimes reaching a goal doesn't make you feel the way you thought.

To Remember or Forget?

Everyone has a list of things they need to do in their lives. Personal goals they have to accomplish.

I have had two childhood friends die. One while we were in the eighth grade, one while we were seniors. Both times, they were no longer "active" friends in my life, but I thought of them often, and fondly. I still do. Having had them in my life touched me. I am a different person because of them. If they had not died, I believe I still would have fond memories of them. Because they did die, I have always felt the need to let their families know that they are still thought of. That someone outside of the family remembers their daughter.

I have also wrestled with the dilemma: Is it better to tell someone you still think of a departed loved one, or not bring up such a painful subject?

In a very weird series of events this morning, I came across the name of the father of my friend that died in high school. If it is not her father, it must be an uncle. No one else has this name, it is even more unusual than mine. I cannot believe that it was an accident that I stumbled across his name. I felt moved to write him a letter, to tell him. I typed it out and really went back and forth on sending it. His daughter died in 1991. Would he want to know that I think about her?

I finally decided, yes. I can only judge a situation through my own eyes. And if I lost one of my precious children I would like to know that some part of them lives on in the hearts of others. I think he should know that his daughter lives in my heart--and so I hit Send. Here is the letter. Names are changed to protect the family. I hope I did the right thing.

Dear Dr. S,

It has been a strange confluence of events that brought me across your information today, but I felt moved to send this letter to you. I hope you do not find this letter inappropriate, or that I have the wrong doctor. If so, I apologize profusely.

I was a classmate of your daughter, K. I moved away after our sophomore year in high school, but during those first two years at school name I considered K to be one of my friends. I wanted to you know that I still think of her. Quite often, actually.

See, I married a man from Sweden. My life, through college and today, has been touched by international influences. K was one of the first people I met from another culture and another religion. I met her at a time when I could actually think about such things, about the meaning of it all. She impacted me deeply, and I can say for certain that meeting her changed the path of my life. Her life, and especially her death greatly shaped the person I am today. I firmly believe the cultural company that I keep and my ideas on religion are all intimately tied to the short time I knew K.

I am sorry if reading this has caused you pain, but it is something I have wanted to share with your family for a long time. That there is someone out in the world who still thinks of your daughter. Someone who still tells stories of her and passes on the bright spark of laughter she shared with me. She is fondly thought of, and my children shall know of her.

All the Best,

M.

What Have I Gotten Myself Into

I am stuck on my cell phone right now with a friend. I am helping her get her WordPress account uploaded to her new website. I want to just tell her that I am done right now. I am glad to help her, but I feel like I have been helping the shit out of people this week and not getting anything in return.

My sister and I went to dinner on Tuesday night. We never do anything together because we never get along. The meal went well. The conversation didn't. It didn't go badly, but all she was interested in was advice on a guy. She didn't ask me how I was. How my life was. How the kids were. Nothing. I should not have expected otherwise. I even paid for dinner. I came home feeling like a used prom date.

And now here I am giving my friend help on the phone. I totally said I would help her. But she is doing stupid shit that is making this take way longer than necessary. I kind of feel like don't ask for my help if you are not going to take it. One of my biggest pet peeves is that I hate it when I feel like my time has been wasted.

LittleBird is still awake. I put her to bed at 8.30 p.m. It is now 12.31 a.m. She is out of fucking control and will not go to sleep. I could lay down with her, and she would be out in a minute, but then I feel like I am rewarding her shitty behaviour. It is a no win situation.

At least I can blog while my friend screws around on her computer. Silver lining, eh?

Someone Save Me From My Stupidity

There is something about going home that brings out the crazy in all of us. Somehow, the fact that we have been gone from the town we grew up in gives us a certain kind of amnesia. At least it does me.

I will be taking the kiddos to my parent's house for two weeks. In preparation for our trip, I have emailed or called old friends so I can see as many people as possible in such a short period of time.

My time is going to be limited, and for some reason part of me has had the urge to call two people that I do not even speak to on a regular basis. I think I must have the Please Insult Me Further disease.

First is the girl with whom I was best friends in high school. We no longer see each other or send emails. Every other month or so, this girl will send out a mass email with pictures of her "cute" kids. I always reply saying something polite-but-cool. She never responds. She never asks how my kids are doing. But she will go and lurk on my other web page for a day or two and look at pictures of my kids there. Freak. Why I would even be tempted to find out if we are in town at the same time shows I must have a sick sense of self-punishment. I guess I want to see how she is in real life now, and how her kids are. Totally out of a self-serving need to compare myself and my kids to her and come away from it gloating. Bitchy, but I am being honest here.

Second is the deadbeat godfather of LittleBird. You can read about that whole mess here. I have been really torn as to whether or not I should let him know we are going to be in town. Since he has been such a shit and not been in touch at all, I want to say fuck it. But, I am still stupidly trying to be the bigger person here. So, I shot off an email before I could change my mind. We'll see what his response will be. I do not want to go back to my old job to see him because I have ZERO desire to see my old colleagues. Those harpies fed me to the wolves before I quit. I don't hate them for it, but neither do I want them lying to my face telling me how happy they are to see me.

So, I feel like a schmuck for reaching out to DBG, but maybe it will bring a little healing. Or I might just end up wanting to stick pins in an effigy of him. We shall see.

Three Strike Friday

Some time ago I blogged about how I had been stood up for several playdates in the span of one day. Today, it happened again. Three stand-ups in one day.

I was supposed to have had a playdate for LittleMan this morning while his sister was in school. They called to cancel early this morning because they are sick. I totally understand how it is with babies, so that is no big deal.

My second blow-off came from my standard "friend" who pulls this shit on a regular basis. She called me earlier this week and asked if we could get our kids together. I did not set this up, it was her idea. I was going to bring my kids by her place since we pass her house on the way home from LittleBird's school. She called at 12.20 to say that she was still shopping in a town over an hour away. That she was running a little bit late, but that she would be at my house for the playdate.

First of all, the playdate was to have been at her house. Whatever.

Secondly, I called my hubbie to tell him the latest development. I told him my prediction was that there was no way she could go to Target with her kids, pick up what she needed for the airplane and her trip (yes, this is the same mom), and make it back here in the time frame she was talking about. I told him I thought she would call me to say her kids had fallen asleep in the car and that she would cancel/tell me to call her later.

Guess who got a phone call at 1.45? Man, did I call that one or what.

As my hubbie and I laughed about it on the phone (because I cannot take this seriously anymore) I thought to myself--hmmmmm. Last time this happened it was a three-strike deal. What was to befall us next?

And then it hit me. We were supposed to have been having dinner at another mom's house tonight. I talked to her about it at playgroup on Tuesday. She has not yet gotten back to me about it, and it is nearly 3 o'clock on Friday. So there is my third blow-off of the day. Yes, I could call her. But I asked her about the dinner. I am the one who suggested we get our families together. She is the one who offered to get together at her house and said that she would talk to her husband and get it set up. I feel like the ball is in her court, kwim?

So, once again it is Friday, and we do not have a damned thing to do. That is fine, though. Hubbie will be coming home, and we can kick back with a movie and a glass of wine. I love him to pieces, and he is the best company I could ask for. We can laugh about all these flaky moms, give each other a hug and know that we are not going to let it get to us.

Still Not One Of the Cool Kids

There have been several conversations in our house lately about friendships. How to maintain them, how to create them, when it is time to let one go.

Last night I had an interesting conversation with a friend where I retold a childhood story I had not thought of in years.

The girl across the street from me was friends with me when it was convenient for her. When there was no one else to play with. It was always that way, and it took a long time for me to realize that was not how a friendship was supposed to be maintained.

Sadly, looking back, I can see where I was the "peacemaker" even back then. Doing or saying things to cull her favor.

She was the first person I knew whose parents went through a divorce. She would go to see her dad on certain weekends in another city, and she promised me on more than one occasion that I could go with her one weekend. That we would have so much fun.

She never actually asked me to come with her, though. And one day I learned that one of the girls from our dance class had gone with her to see her dad over one of her weekend visits.

I actually gathered up the nerve to ask her why she kept promising to invite me along, but took this girl instead. She looked at me and said, "You just aren't cool enough."

Part of me felt sad. The other part of me knew it was true.

Such is the drama of girls in junior high.

In the retelling of this story, it gave me the opportunity to analyze how I handle my friendships in my adult life.

Sometimes, when I am not watchful, I am still that kid. Somehow, I still manage to find myself in similar situations.

Over the summer, I suggested to one of my mom friends that we take a trip together with our kids.. I have the money and the means to go, and I thought it would be fun if the two of us took the kids for a week or two this autumn.

She said that sounded like a lot of fun, but the topic hasn't really come up lately.

Until last week.

In a phone conversation, she said that she and another mom were taking the kids on a trip together. The same trip I suggested.

I don't even have the energy to be sad about it. I am really not surprised. This other mom is very cool. I really like her a lot. I do not know the circumstances under which this trip was planned, so I do no fault her. She and her family have lots of money, lots of contacts. And my mom-friend seems to gravitate towards that more that just regular people like myself and my family. It was how she was raised. So in a way, I can't fault her, either. She is doing what she always does. I have learned to expect it.

It just makes me realize that I am still that same nerdy, gawky kid. I think differently. What I consider important is not what the rest of the sheeple consider important. It is my own fault for thinking I could blend in.

Somehow, I thought having kids the same age would mean that we had things in common. That I would finally find a few meaningful friendships with women.

No one told me that when I left high school, that the cliques of Motherhood were right around the corner.

I didn't fit in then. And I certainly don't now.

This was a good wakeup call for me. I hope I do not forget about it soon. Not so that I hold any hard feelings, but so that I do not put myself into that situation again.

I am cool in my own way. I am odd. I am offbeat. I have my own unique thing to offer. It is just a matter of finding people who appreciate it.

As long as I can keep that perspective, I think I will be okay. I didn't sell my soul as a kid or teenager, and I am not about to start now.

The Angel On My Doorstep

I must have done something right.

I have been on an emotional roller coaster the past two days. I have had a housefull of people for Little Man's birthday, and now that everyone has gone it has felt very empty. Very lonely.

I know one of the keys to my being a good parent is to get enough sleep. I do not handle things well when I am tired. The past two nights have been rough. Neither child has slept well, and so neither have we. Combine this with suddenly having no grandparents around to keep the kiddos entertained and that makes for a bad mix.

I skipped out on my Tuesday playgroup today. I got bad news in an email, the kids have faucets for noses, and in all honesty--I just could not face getting everything together to go to the park for our weekly playgroup. I called the girl I normally walk with and told her that it was just not happening this morning, but to tell the other moms hello.

Here is where my karma train came in. Normally, I feel it runs my ass over. Today, it made a delivery.

My cell phone rang. It was a friend I have been missing terribly. She has recently returned to school, and I have been hesitant to call her until she gets more firmly settled in. I had just been thinking of calling her, when she called me. We joked about our psychic ability, and then I told her: "I just feel like you are going to knock on my door and be here."

And there was a knock on my door.

I kid you not. No blog-bullshitting around. There really was a knock on my door at that precise moment.

And nobody knocks on our door. I mean NOBODY. We live in a very small town (three stoplights) and in a fairly deserted townhouse complex. Unless I am expecting someone, no one ever comes by.

Still on the phone with my friend, I asked her if she were actually on my doorstep. She laughed and said it was not her. But I could see a woman standing outside my door.

I opened the door, and it was the girl I normally walk with. And she had a Starbucks latte for me. She told me that she did not want me to miss out on our weekly coffee.

Like a dumbass, I burst into tears. She told me she worried about me sometimes, and that she just wanted to come by and bring me the coffee.

Damn. It brings tears to my eyes just to type this. I have done this for other people over the years, but no one has ever done this for me. Not ever.

So on a morning when I felt so sad and so alone, the universe sent two angels to me to remind me that I was loved.

The next time I feel cynical about the women in my life, may I remember these acts of kindness.

I Am A Wimp

So much for all the hot air I was blowing about my BFF/soon-to-be-former BFF.

We spoke two times on the phone today, and it was actually like old times. She sounded like her old self. She acknowledged that she has been a shitty friend over the past few months and apologized for it. I was able to tell her that I agreed with her, that she had been a shit, how hard it had been, and that I was glad she could see these things. All without her getting defensive. It is amazing what sleep will do for a person. Now that she is functioning on a full 6-8 hours of sleep instead of 3-4 she is a much nicer person. Thank god. I may not have to chuck her to the curb afterall.

The Jinx of the BFF

I will never have another best friend.

Or maybe I should say, "Best Friend." Not to be dramatic, but I don't think there is a BFF for me.

I understand that people change over time. Careers, Education, Motherhood, etc. As I have grown up I have had several friends whom I thought would be in my life forever. In every case we have not only chosen separate paths in life, but I have found myself questioning my ability to judge character. I think that as I have changed in life and tried to mould the friendship to fit my new experiences, I have given up too much of myself. I don't say what needs to be said at the right time out of fear of hurting my "friend's" feelings, and I have ended up getting taken advantage of and treated like garbage.

I have spent the past two, maybe three weeks anguishing over my a situation regarding my no longer current best friend. I have felt that our relationship was lacking for quite some time, but I have never found the courage to talk about it to her. The few times I have tried to talk in a non-confrontational manner have back-fired because this friend has such a strong personality. Because we do not live n the same state all our communication is via phone. There are many things I would like to have addressed with her over the past year, but with both of us beings moms of young ones and all the outside drama going on, there has never been a "right" time to hash out certain things. Then, too much time passes and it is even harder to try and talk.

Now, a few things that happened that are a deal breaker for me. I have not had the chance to talk to her because she has made herself unavailable to me. I do not want to follow her around like a puppy. She has treated me like garbage the past two weeks, and though I WILL tell her (in a nice way) the next time we talk, I do not know that I have an interest in continuing the relationship past this point. It breaks my heart to feel this way, but I think I deserve better. I named my daughter after her and sometime in the future I will have to explain to dd what happened. It all makes me so sad.