Friends Old and New

It’s kind of crazy that I was just writing about friendship last week when I got a message from my old pal (and elementary school fiance’) Ari asking if we would like to join him and one of my dear high school BFFs for a day at The Museum of Aviation.  Um.  Yes.  Duh.  What time?

Ari and Anna were two of my very good friends in high school.  Ari and I go WAY back to literally learning how to speak in speech therapy at elementary school.  I knew Anna as a kid, but we didn’t become super good friends until my mom forced me to stop hanging out with the bad kids in middle school.  Luckily, the good kids were also entertaining. Continue reading

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Dear High Schoolers: Be Good To Your Friends

I don’t know at what point I got lucky enough to truly value my friendships.  Maybe it was the summer before second grade.  Our house had burned down and we were taken in by many families in our town.  It is hard to remember how long I stayed at each place, but I was never afraid.  I don’t think it’s normal to worry about homelessness when you lose your home at the ripe old age of seven, but I didn’t have to find out.  Our friends (my parents’ friends) stepped up and made sure we had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies.   Continue reading

New England-The Umbrella Incident

Blogs about trips are so hard for me to write because so much happens that I don’t know where to begin.  I don’t want to overwhelm you with every little detail of our five day trip, but I don’t want to forget the good stuff, so I am trying something different.  I’m going to make this a series of short stories so I don’t forget anything while simultaneously not boring the heck out of my readers.  Let me set the scene: Continue reading

Why You Should Visit Your Confused Loved One-Even If It Makes You Sad

I visited my Grandbetty’s old house last week and it brought back a flood of memories (no pun intended).  I wrote a blog about my Grandbetty after Alzheimer’s, but most of my memories are of her before.  When she knew my name.  When she wanted to take a thousand pictures of me by her azalea bushes.  When she wanted to feed me, even when I wasn’t hungry.  I was with her when she died.  I sat with her several times a week for the two years she didn’t know me anymore.  She was still the same person, just confused.  Sometimes, she would get angry.  Not often, but sometimes.  If she got angry with me, I would leave the room and collect myself.  I wasn’t mad at her, but I was hurt.  It didn’t matter that she didn’t know what she was saying.  Words hurt.  I had to cry a little and then I had to come back-because this was the only time in her entire life when she REALLY needed me.   Continue reading

“Those” Girls You Don’t Want To Talk To

You know the type.  They’re pretty, they’re popular, and you just KNOW they’re shallow.  They have no depth.  They think they’re the greatest little tanned bodies south of the Mason Dixon line.  They could wear the exact same outfit as you and be the winner of “Who Wore It Best?” every time.  You know what else they are?  Totally unapproachable.  When they walk up to the group you’re talking with you think, “What do I have to say to her?” and “How can she take this perfectly great conversation and turn it in to something I have no input on whatsoever?”  We all have those girls that we don’t want to talk to.  The girls you don’t even want to see.  Those snotty, two-faced, fancy pants-wearing, jerks.  Ugh.   Continue reading

Beach Bitches and Busted Biscuits

And by bitches, I mean incredibly aggressive Pitbulls and their drunkenly idiotic owners who allow their dog to drag them all over the beach and attempt to eat small, innocent terrier puppies-but we’ll get to that later.  Last weekend, I went to the beach with four of my closest friends.  This is our second annual chill trip. There are certain requirements to attend this special event.  You must be incredibly passionate about three things:  Eating, laughing, and doing absolutely nothing.  Oh my gosh, ya’ll.  I am SO good at doing nothing.   Continue reading