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The point is that I love to write. I just don't often have time to write. The only thing I love better than writing, is reading what I wrote! I know. It's some type of sick inner-validation, lack of love and affection thing. I get pleasure from knowing that I am good at something. There just ain't too much that I can say that about!! It's taken me a lifetime to figure out that this one talent is my special gift from God. I treasure it. So, to be able to share it with others brings me joy.
The other thing is that this blog is a public stage for my sick and twisted sense of humor. Which also brings me joy. Although I am not sure I use it all for God's glory. Pretty sure The Big Guy's not too happy about that either. Which brings us to a point for pondering and reflection. What exactly WOULD Jesus do for a Klondike Bar?
"Yes, I'll take one ticket on the Express to Hell, please. Yes, a window seat will be fine. That way, I can enjoy one last breeze before Bedlam. What do you mean you're outta peanuts?! What kinda crap-shoot are ya' runnin' here?? Just gimme some goddamned ginger ale... and make it snappy."
Sorry for the digression. My point is that this blog venture was a sprinkle of excitement into my regular 'ol life. I wanted to share it with my friends. The only problem was, I could only think of five people that met the criteria. The criteria being: 1. They owned a computer; 2. I wouldn't mind them reading my blog, because they lived most of it with me anyway; and 3. They liked me. One of those people was my sister, and relatives don't really count, but I was desperate to get into the fingers on my second hand. Didn't happen.
And, NO...before you think it, I didn't count my husband. We're married. He has to like me...if he EVER wants to have sex again in this lifetime!!
Anyway...This all got me thinking about how valuable friendship really is. And, it didn't hurt that Mickie got her panties in a bunch because I didn't mention that she came to the Princess Party even though she gave me the punch. Damn blog. I knew I was going to have to hurt some feelings to become famous.
The point being is that I value my friends, mostly because I don't have many. I have lived 36 years and I can count my tried-and-trues on one hand. Amy, Laura, Denise, Mickie and my BEST friend, my sistah-from-the-SAME-mutha, Rose. Five in a progression from birth to high school to college to Texas to now. My five friends. They have seen me on top of the world, and at the bottom of a bottle. They have traveled miles in the middle of the night to rescue me, and climbed in my childhood bed to hold my hand while I grieved. They have seen me live ten lifetimes packed into one, escaping death more times than I can mention. They can name every party that composes 'Ol South Week; they know the meaning behind "S-S-S" and "covered and smothered" and where to find "Whitey"; they have teased my hair, squeezed my jeans shut, taken off my boots, cleaned up my puke, and held my hand. They are Ya-Yas. Steel Magnolias. A group of women that have also lived through personal tragedies and triumphs. A few of those I have also witnessed. Moments that bond us together for a lifetime.
So, I ask you. Is 5 friends enough for 36 years? I say that it's just enough. Fills up my memory with enough smiles and laughter to last a lifetime...my heart with enough joy and love to see me through when my Prozac runs low...and fills up all the fingers on one hand.
(I won't tell you who got the middle finger!) Okay, Ouiser.
5 comments:
You're the only one of my friends that I jumped in my car, in my nightgown, to go see about only to arrive at the 'ole White Columns from Hell and you tell me "Oh, everything's fine!"
P.S. Either my memory is failing me or I missed something. I can definitely identify with some of your criteria but I'm unaware of
S-S-S, covered and smothered, and where Whitey is. That's okay though, cause as one of your "Guuuurlfriends" I know only we know which of my old boyfriends whizzed in that old biddy's plant by my apt. (the same one you made me walk down the aisle with, lol), and I'm sure I'm the only one that has had the pleasure of sharing a banana banchee with you and then timing ourselves in the bathroom at the mall (ewwww, were we really that crude or just that drunk?) Too, too many to mention and I thought of quite a few when I passed by The Body just this Tuesday morning.
Laura,
You are the only one who knows how many Beasts it takes to get the coals ready for BBQ chicken!! AND you are the only one I've ever slept on TOP of!!! (Because she used to live in the apt. underneath mine, in case anyone is wondering!! ;) wink!
So many good times...so many pictures to share with your sons!!!
OMG. First, this made me cry. Second, I can't BUH-LIEVE that I got the middle finger. Ok, well I buh-lieve it, but I'm not happy about it. You are a PIG FROM HELL.
Third, Can I have the seat next to you on the Express to Hell? I can't think of a better person to share it with.
Gosh I miss you.
Awwww...don't cry for me, Argentina! My middle finger is always reserved for you!!! And, of course, you can sit beside me on the Express to Hell. Who else did you think I was saving the seat for? Okay....Don't answer that!!!
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