Thief of ideas

Shamlessly stealing an idea from my sister in law, I am posting a couple of pictures that I took from the backyard of my house in Louisiana. It was of an amazing sunset. It wasn't the first one I saw either. Just one that I had promised myself to take a picture of if I had ever saw it again. And I saw it. And I took it. I am a sucker for a good sunset.

6 hours

That is how long I spent talking on the phone last night to my oldest and dearest friend, Cindi. Cindi and I have known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper (not that either of us really grew much taller than that later on in life). Our friendship has endured for over 30 years, thousands of miles of separation, marriages, deaths, illness, awards, hate and love. She is as close to me as blood.

We talk about 4 or 5 times a month. We email and facebook each other more often. There is always something to talk about. When you are best friends with someone who grew up with you in the same neighborhood, then you are best friends with someone who understands what makes you tick. They knew you 'when'. Before the successes, before the gray hair and extra pounds. They knew you at your best, they knew you at your worst and they love you because of them and in spite of them. They keep your secrets and will take them to the grave.

What could we possibly find to talk about for 6 hours? I have never talked to ANYONE on the phone for 6 hours before. Well, it's amazing what you can talk about for 6 hours. We talked about anything and everything. And almost none of it was reminiscing. It was all new stuff. Of course her and I have our "remember when...?" conversations, but thankfully our friendship goes deeper than that. We truly care about what is going on in the lives of one another. We have the kind of friendship where we each have the other's parents phone numbers on our speed dial.
Our conversation last night was so refreshing and there is no other way I would have wanted to spend a Saturday night if I have to be here without my Eric anyway. I was still excited about our phone call when I finally went to bed at close to 1am.

My father always said if you find one real friend in your whole life, you are a lucky individual. Well I have known for most of our 30 year history that Cindi and I have attained that rare and special status and I am grateful every day of my life for it.

2009

I can hardly believe that 2009 is almost here. 2009! Shouldn't we be further along than we are right now? I know that in 1977 I was SURE that by the time we hit the year 2000, we'd be driving hovercrafts and have the ability to fly on our own private rockets. I am disappointed that I can't yet "beam" myself somewhere. And what about time travel??? I mean, time travel should be a GIVEN at this point, shouldn't it? I would totally travel back to a time when I could have bought "Google" at $10 bucks a share. Other than that, I'd probably just roam around different points in time to be able to see cool stuff. Moon landing, Plymouth Rock landing, Woodstock (but i'd be sure to beam myself up in front of the stage so I wouldn't have to deal with all the freaky whacked out flower children). I'd love to see Janis and Jimmi play live without having to deal with the crowds and things.

We should also have the power to make ourselves invisible. Like in Harry Potter. That would RULE. Right now, I would hitch a ride on a KC 135 that I knew was heading out to where my sweetheart is and surprise him. Whoo hoo!

For now, I suppose I can just hope that 2009 is a better year than 2008. I would sure like to still have my dad around (a new time travel destination perhaps?) Not that 2008 has been ALL bad. I did meet an amazing man, bought a fantastic house and got my dog back after all. And with any luck, I will have finished SOS before 2008 is over too.

Must have been difficult...

I have no kids so I realize that I may be speaking out of turn, but being a parent has got to be a tough job, even in the absolute best of circumstances. But being MY father must have been really difficult. I wasn't a rebel. I didn't break the rules. I wasn't a whiner and I never had to be told more than once to do or not to do anything. I know, really tough, huh? Well, I looked a lot different from most kids my age. Who am I kidding? I looked different than ALL the kids my age. I was significantly shorter than anyone for my entire childhood and teen years. And I was a late bloomer. Bad combination. I would have fit right in had I grown up in Tokyo.

Dad was great in that he never made me feel like there were things I couldn't do because I was so small. If I couldn't reach the sink to do dishes, I stood on a chair. If I couldn't reach the plates I stood on the counters. All that, but there was one thing he couldn't do...make me taller. And I was constantly bitching about things related to it. I wanted more than anything to look like the girls on the magazine covers. They were my age and they were wearing makeup and bikini's and had boobs! I remember one time we were in a store, I saw another magazine and asked my dad why I wasn't pretty. And when would I get my boobs. I must have been 16 or so (really late bloomer). I don't remember exactly what he said to console me this particular time, but whatever it was, it always worked. I know it had to have been difficult for him with me constantly asking about things that would never happen.

Today I was watching TV and saw a commercial for J'Adore perfume. It was a great commercial with this really hot, sexy, woman who was walking across a floor and taking things off in a frustrated, sexy manner until she was completely naked. Forget the perfume, I wanted to be HER! Tall, thin, hot, sexy. Sexy enough to be able to pull off walking down a long corridor while ripping off pieces of clothing and jewelery until I was completely naked and have it be a complete turn on to my man.

Reality is I could be thin as a rail and still never be tall enough to pull off "sexy". Cute maybe. But not "sexy". In addition, I'd probably trip and fall over if I was trying to walk and take stuff off at the same time. 37 years old and still not satisfied.

At least I finally got my boobs. Good ones too. And because they showed up so late, they still defy gravity. Of course if I hadn't gotten them naturally, I could have bought them. Can't buy 9 more inches of height and "sexy".