Archives for February 2007

Probably the best way I can explain this past weekend is to tell you that by nine o’clock Friday night, I had to take two Advil because I had a splitting headache from laughing so hard.

No kidding: there were several moments this weekend when I had to remind myself to breathe.

As an unexpected bonus, our friend Melissa was able to join our little mini-reunion at the last minute. Melissa was Miss Everything in high school, bears a stunning resemblance to Julia Roberts, and earned her PhD in something I couldn’t explain to you if I tried. She had a baby not too terribly long ago, but she has bounced right back into her usual size 6 clothes.

Also, she does not have any wrinkles.

And if you’re thinking that you might have to resent her for just a second if you met her, I’ll just go ahead and tell you that you can’t. It’s impossible. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and when I think of her, I think of sunshine.

So between the surprise of getting to see Melissa, Merritt’s wacky shenanigans that left me doubled over with laughter, Daphne’s well-timed punch lines, and Liz’s hilarious stories, I am exhausted in the best possible way. We ate way too much, talked non-stop, and laughed until we sobbed. It was divine.

I kept a running list of blog topics in my head all weekend…I thought that I might write about our recollection that Merritt once wrote a term paper in college on belts, or celebrating Melissa’s birthday in a Mexican restaurant and Merritt using just enough Spanish so that the busboy got a bit of a crush on her and literally embraced her when we left, or my complete inability to park Liz’s gigantor SUV without either taking up two spaces or ending up at a terribly awkward angle.

But oddly enough, I find that I can’t write about any of those things.

Because as I sat around my breakfast room table this morning and looked at the faces of four girls who, for the better part of my life, have seen me at my very best and my very worst and everything in between, I felt so completely, profoundly grateful for the blessing of such sweet friends that it overwhelmed me just a little bit, and I realized that there is absolutely no way that my words can do our weekend justice.

And that’s okay – because there are some parts of my life that I just need to hold really close to my heart without thinking about how I’m going to edit them. That’s how I feel about these past few days.

However, you’ll be delighted to know that D. returned home today with a humdinger of a Martha story, and I’m sure it’ll make its way into the blog fray in the next day or two.

By the way: do you know what was the best part of D. and Alex being gone all weekend?

When they came home.

See y’all tomorrow.

This weekend my friends Merritt, Liz and Daphne are coming to visit me.

I’ll pause for a moment so that you have sufficient time for applause. 

Daph and I met when we were freshmen in college, and I don’t think there’s anyone on the face of the planet who gets my sense of humor as well as she does. She can essentially say one word – for example, “monitor” – and, because of her unique Daph-esque inflections, make me laugh so hard that I find myself snorting and in desperate need of a disposable adult undergarment.

As you can tell, I am a delicate, Southern flower.

I have been friends with Merritt and Liz since I was twelve years old and had recently experimented with an easy 1-2-3 bang-cutting method that I saw in Seventeen magazine. Unfortunately, I did not achieve the “wispy bang” look that I was after, and instead I ended up with a two-inch tuft of hair that essentially transformed the left side of my head into a neon sign that said “HEY, Y’ALL! I CUT MY OWN BANGS!” in bright orange letters.

But Merritt and Liz wanted to be my friends anyway. I’ve been understandably loyal ever since.

Now because I didn’t meet Daph until college, I don’t have the vast repository of embarrassing photographs that I do for Merritt and Liz. I’ve looked ALL OVER my house for a picture of Daphne and me from our junior year of college, simply because she was going through what we like to call her pseudo-alternative phase – complete with small, round glasses that would have made Michael Stipe very proud indeed – and I was coming out of a Terribly Permed phase and sporting a lovely ‘do that was straight as a board at the top of my head but a mass of ringlets at the bottom.

However, since I couldn’t find that picture, I decided to post this one instead:

We were eating pizza, and while I would love to tell you that such an occurrence was a very rare one when we were in college, that would be a lie. As a matter of fact, the number for Domino’s was 324-2100, and the fact that I still know that critical bit of information almost fifteen years after leaving my beloved alma mater is proof that my daddy’s investment in my college education was worth every. single. dime.  

That’s me on the left, by the way. In the sweatshirt that’s both tie-dyed and bedazzled. Because I totally had it goin’ on in college. Oh yeah. Had to beat the fellas away with a stick. Or a Domino’s box, as it were.

After I found the picture of Daph and me, I started to look for pictures of Merritt and Liz, too.

I think you’ll be well-pleased with what I found:

That’s Liz, then Merritt, then me.

As you can tell, I spent most of my time not tanning when I wasn’t teasing my bangs and neglecting to pluck my eyebrows.

I don’t know what made me laugh harder: the fact that Merritt and Liz sported thick, gold chains in their senior portraits (don’t think for one second that my 17 year old self wasn’t green with envy about that, by the way), or the fact that you could have quite easily hung Christmas ornaments from our hair.

I mean, look at those well-defined layers. We could have nestled writing utensils or small snacks or diminutive furry creatures in there for hours on end without disturbing our coiffures in the least. Personally, I’d like to see us recreate those looks this weekend, but I don’t think they make lacquer for hair anymore because of some federally-mandated regulations about stripping away ozone or somesuch nonsense.

Needless to say, we have big fun in store over the next few days. So if you need to find me, I’ll be in my living room or my kitchen, laughing until I lose my breath, collapsing on the nearest piece of furniture, clutching my side, then laughing some more, all the while trying not to wet my pants.

And until I return, indulge me if you dare: leave me a comment with the name(s) of your best friend(s) from high school, the band or singer that you thought was the AWESOMEST when you were 17 or 18, and – if you can bear it – what you would have been wearing if I had run into you on an average high school day (and thanks, Veronica, for this idea).

In closing, I’d like to leave you with these words of wisdom that my friend Brian B. wrote in my high school yearbook:

“May your path always be filled with success (YOU decide SUCCESS). If you do not know where or how to find it, stick to your guns, never surrender. Blood is thicker than water. You cannot get blood from a stone….”

I have no idea what that means, internets, but I have a feeling it’s terribly profound. And deep. And stuff.