Sometimes in life you are blessed enough to have at least a few friends that you can tell anything to. (And I mean anything.) If you’re really lucky, you have a history with them. You go back far enough that they can remember the days of ex-boyfriends and high school angst.
One of my best friends ever is that way with me. She knows everything about me. The good, the bad, the ugly and the “you better take that with you to the grave” kinds of things. Yet, we are also opposite in many ways. She is organized, detail oriented, very neat and tidy and is pretty baffled by the fact that I am so….not.
There was this one time that she came to my house and “just because” started to sweep and mop my kitchen. (Okay, maybe not “just because”. Maybe because the kids had been playing outside and brought in half a sandbox with them and I ignored it and she just didn’t have the “ignore the gritty feeling on the floor” gene. Nevertheless, she offered out of the goodness of her little neat-freak heart.) I dropped to my knee right then and there and proposed, but she refused. She said the whole “we’re both married and have kids” thing was too much of a deterrent. (Damn! I almost had me a good ol’ wife there!)
She is a straight shooter and I love that about her. (I want to be just like her when I grow up.) In fact, once on a road trip out of the blue she reaches over to me (I am driving), grabs my bra strap, yanks it up and says, “Do you really think this fits you? You’ve lost weight. You need a smaller bra and shirts that fit, sweetie. Time to shop!” She was right. I can always count on her to tell it like it is. Always. I count on it.
So, if I tell her anything, and I know she will be upfront, and I know she loves me, why did I just now tell her about this blog? I don’t know. I say nothing here that I wouldn’t say to anyone, anytime and anywhere. (Well, for the most part.) Anyway, I guess I am just now to a point where I am comfortable enough in my blogging skin to share this with my real life friends and family. (Hi Bo!) Do you share it with yours? Why or why not?
Oh, and you can thank HER for the coffee obsession. I just liked it before, but she introduced me to the bliss, heaven and sheer delight that a single cup of coffee can bring into one’s life. She is my dealer, so to speak. So, blame her. As always, I am innocent.