So I'm having a momentary freak out and if I text message it it'll be 24 texts long, all arriving in un-chronological order, and if I Facebook status it it will be way too long, and if I say it out loud I'll cry and I don't like crying - it gives me a headache and makes me crave chocolate and causes my mascara to run down my face where I have to scrape it off with a butter knife later - so I'll just blog it.
I have a friend moving to Ireland.
That's across an ocean.
I won't be able to call and say take me shopping before I eat my children. Or please bring me hot wings. Or do these pants make me look fat? Or I have Goodwill coupons, meet me at the curb in three minutes. Or let's go out for margaritas and a movie. I mean, I could call and say those things to her but she'd be like, yeah, girl, I'm in Ireland wearing cable knit sweaters, sipping Guinness, conversing with Liam Neeson and Colin Farrell, exploring castles, and eating corned beef and cabbage and soda bread.
And I know she loves me and all, but I really cannot compete with Liam or Colin. Colin is way prettier and I'm just not as good at vigilantism as Liam. I mean, if a teen girl gets kidnapped and sold into slavery who are you gonna call: me or Liam? There's just no competition. He'd be like, keep calm, I got this. And I'd be like, panic immediately! I'm gonna throw up! Call the police, call my dad, call Liam Neeson! I will sit by the phone and eat ice cream until this situation resolves itself!
So in a few weeks we meet to say goodbye and I really don't know who we're fooling because the only person who despises goodbyes more than I do is her. I'll be hiding behind a rose bush, sucking my thumb, and she'll be locking herself in her car, and there will be no goodbyes. Our husbands will drag us, kicking and screaming out from our respective haunts and force us to but we won't. We will avoid eye contact and I am stating for the record right now I am not hugging her baby goodbye. You can't make me. Well, maybe one quick hug.
The strange thing about my friend, Genesis, is how much we've been through together.
She was there the day Cora disappeared in the woods and she was gone for an hour and a half and she was only four years old and I hyperventilated and Gen took Anna, who was only a munchkin, down to get the sheriff and Anna kept saying 'where's Cora?' and Gen had to hold it together because the munchkin's mama was falling apart. We referred to that as The Episode of Which We Do Not Speak until something happened a year or so later that nearly dwarfed The Episode of Which We Do Not Speak and that title was transferred. We like to rotate our emergency titles like that.
She was there when Gianni had a life threatening reaction to a medication and once again, she took charge of Anna so that I could ride along in the ambulance.
She was there last year when I was told what an awful person I was by people I gave up everything to help and my family was torn apart. She was there when I lost my voice from tears and fed me and helped me pack my life into a utility trailer. She was there to financially help me get back West - home - because if she hadn't we'd still be stranded in Nebraska somewhere, out of gas and out of food with a debit card that was declined.
I was there when we thought her husband was dead and he wasn't.
I was there when they brought home their baby from foster care, not knowing how long they'd get to have him and I was there to celebrate with eggs bennies the day they adopted him for good.
She's been Santa and the Easter Bunny for twelve years for my kids. She's thrown me baby showers and surprise birthday parties. She allows me to text her fashion commentaries during every televised awards show. She gave me a really cool red pot that weighs sixteen tons and which broke her foot and makes me think of her every time I use it - which is nearly daily - and also makes me feel like a chef because it's always featured on cooking shows.
Will she make lady finger Halloween cookies for Liam and Colin?
Will she knit them scarves and quilt them baby quilts and give them manicures?
I hope they appreciate her.
I hate Ireland.
If you'd like to check out their Irish missionary page feel free to do so right here and right here . But whatever you do, don't tell them to have a good time. We want them to come back in a speedy fashion and bring some cable knit sweaters.
Love you, Gen! Consider this our goodbye because I am SO barricading myself in the bathroom at your goodbye party.