Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

Every once in a while, when I pause to actually use my brain, I remember things that shock me.  With school starting this past week, and a brand new soccer season, I've been rather like the White Queen, running as fast as I can simply to stay in one place!  So, thinking and being able to remember things without notes to myself everywhere is somewhat of a miracle.

I was scribbling in a notebook on the couch in an effort to be more sociable (okay, it was a compromise.  Let's face it, writing is about as sociable an activity as masturbating, just... only slightly less messy, and only a little less embarrassing) when I had one of those "Whoa!" moments.

Around this time of year, in 1975, my sixth grade teacher placed two shy girls in desks, one behind the other, and pretty much just sat back to watch.  I wonder if Mrs. Ator had any inkling of what she started that day?  It's funny that that's about the only point we really agree on about that meeting.  She says I was drawing a picture that caught her eye, and I say she was reading an Andre Norton book I hadn't read yet, but was interested in.  Well, I lied.  There two points we agree on.  The second one was... we started talking.  We've been best friends ever since.  We've known each other for a mind-boggling 32 years.  That's longer than we've been married to our respective husbands!  

We've been through thick and thin, through bizarre hair styles, musical tastes that have made each other wince (I think mine have made HER wince more than hers have me!), interesting clothing choices, boyfriends-from-hell... you name it.  I was her labor coach for her first child, and her maid/matron of honor for both her weddings.  She returned the favor at mine, and was the first visitor I am clearly able to remember seeing after my daughter was born.  I mean, I remember my sister, and my brother-in-love, Uncle Artist, but everyone else is sort of a blur.  But Char?  I remember her quite well, and how NORMAL she made me feel, sprawling on the foot of my bed while the Husbandly One fed me ice chips, and we just... talked.  It calmed me down considerably, and helped me settle down, when what I really wanted to do was prowl the hospital to FIND MY BABY, DAMMIT!

She has put up with me in every conceivable mood, knows everything about me, and loves me anyway.  She puts up with my horrible memory, my rotten temper, and my general flakiness with a patience that awes me.  I am so lucky to have two people who get me, and like me anyway.  And even more important, want to be around me!  It's awe-inspiring, I tell you.  

She is an absolutely wonderful artist, and has been waiting with great patience to illustrate my first book, whether it's the book cover or the interior art.  I'm working as hard as I can, Char!  Be patient with me!  She believes in me, and I find that all kinds of wonderful and awesome.  And you know, I believe in her just as hard.  I have to admit, I stand in awe of her work.  There's a student painting she did at the University of Washington that I stare at whenever I get a chance, because I see something new in it every time.  It's mostly textural, these subtly different shades of green, and it takes a little while to see the figures in it, and then they evolve... it's quite wonderful!

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I am most humbly grateful for my best friend, and for all she has brought to my life.  It has been a most wonderful adventure, and I hope we have many, many more in the years to come.  She's one of my two favorite people to get in trouble with, even when she's driving me crazy.  

Love you, Char!  Happy anniversary!