Shelly

I've been meaning to write this for a couple months. When I was in junior and senior high, I had an incredible friend. Her name was Shelly. On this very blog, months ago, I asked if anyone knew where Shelly was. She and I lost contact when I moved to Canada and proceeded to lose my mind. When my mind came back, Shelly had moved and I didn't know where. Her husband has a most common name and every time I'd look his name up, there were a bazillion choices. I gave up.

We were in a small school (that's a severe understatement) so choices for friends were limited. However God was looking out for me and I got a great friend. Shelly was as easy-going as anyone I'd ever known and she had a kick butt sense of humor. I loved her as much as a teenager is capable of loving. She was a year older than me so of course she graduated before me. I wondered how I'd survive without her. I cried and cried.

Several months ago I tried looking for Shelly again. I found a website called Moboni People Search. Now mind you I didn't pay any money, but from that sight I was able to determine where Shelly lives and therefore I was able to get her phone number. (On a side note, aren't you curious about what you get if you pay that money to find out stuff? I've been really tempted to pay it and find out what's out there on me. But I never have, only because Gordon won't let me use a credit card to find out stuff about me. However I have typed in many names to see what I can find out for free. I learned that my sister Stacie is married to Jimmy and the last 5 places they've lived. My mom is married to my step-dad and they live in Mena. I used to be married to Kent, now he's married to Julie. Mobini lost track of me when I left the US. They have me in North Dakota. I guess when you leave the US they put you in whatever state is closest to the country you went to. Anyway the sight is cool and I'm sure you'll have fun learning where your mom and dad live, and if they are truly married.)

I phoned Shelly's number and had a very brief delightful chat with her daughter - I didn't know if she had kids - and then I spoke very briefly with her husband. Shelly wasn't home but I confirmed that I had found my Shelly. We connected two days later. Life is an interesting thing. I told Shelly this and now I'm telling you; when you care about a person as much as I cared for Shelly, there seemed a void in my life not knowing where she was or how she was. I feel more complete and whole knowing Shelly has a good life, is healthy, has a great family, is happy. It felt great learning life has been good to her.

I've found Shelly. I'm happy.

Shelly has this amazing ability to make me laugh. Even 400 years after visiting with her last, I immediately felt comfortable with her as we talked, and again, her sense of humor had me laughing. We talked about school days and that teacher I've mentioned a few time on this blog. You remember now? Well we started talking about that teacher, let's call her Doris for simplicity sake. I rehashed my disdain for Doris quite adequately, I commenced rehashing it a few more times. About the forth time around Shelly squeezed back into the conversation by saying, "Leeeeeetttt it go." I had forgotten how easily she could make me laugh.

Here are a few of her quick witted moments from high school. She liked this guy named something like Bingo. I think they went out a time or two, but I don't remember for sure. Whatever the history was, she quite liked him. One day she and I were sitting at Sonic when Bingo pulled up with a girl. Soon he and the girl were kissing while we stared from a distance, Shelly broke the silence. Calmly she said, "I can tell he likes me by the way he kisses her." I blew coke through my nose.

Being from a small town, it didn't take much to make the local news. One day, weeks and weeks after she'd had any contact with Bingo, the local news (radio) said that Bingo was going to Arkadelphia that day for some event. That evening after Shelly heard the news she said, "I know why Bingo didn't call today. He's in Arkadelphia."

She had such a great way of summing something up succinctly, but with great humor. Once at Sonic, (Sonic was THE place back then), a good looking stud parked beside us. He was pulled up farther that us, so we were able to stare without being noticed. We did just that. Then he turned around and looked straight at Shelly. She said, "Oh gosh, he caught me drooling."

Once in her car we were dragging Main. Do I ever feel old using that expression. For clarity, "dragging Main" means we drove up and down Main Street. That seems so stupid and senseless now, but it's what teenagers did when they weren't parking and getting pregnant. Shelly and I didn't do either of those things at that point in our lives. We were good girls who felt really risque' dragging Main. Anyway, there was this car that we would meet every time and he didn't have his headlights on. Every single time he passed us, we talked about the loser dude who didn't have the sense to turn his headlights on. Yes, we were soooo cool.

There were some guys that we wanted to get a better look at. We pulled into WalMart parking lot hoping to get a better look at them as they passed. When we parked, I reminded her to turn her headlights off so they wouldn't notice us. She reached down and then pulled back and humbly confessed, "Oops, they're not on." The whole time we were talking about the loser boy who didn't have the sense to turn on his lights, our's weren't on.

One more story. We were at the car wash and this beautiful, tall, dark and handsome guy arrived on the scene with his dad. The son was very very good looking. The dad was really really not. The dad must have been a mechanic or something because he was oily, dirty, disheveled, but it was the teeth that really stood out - and I mean just that; his teeth stood out. Stood out. Do you get that?

We finished our vacuuming and then sat reflectively staring at the handsome guy. I broke the silence by saying, "Wow is he ever good looking?" After a short silence Shelly dryly responded, "Yeah and his son's not bad either." I about had a coronary laughing.

I didn't do Shelly's humor justice with my writing, but at least I have some of my favorites in writing for my own enjoyment. Shelly was an amazing friend. I missed her enormously when she moved away. Thankfully with the marvels of the world wide web, I can easily keep in contact with her. She's as amazing as ever. I'm so happy to be back in contact with her. Shelly, I love you and always will. You were my first real friend and I still count you as a best friend.

It's just a hair

Yesterday I had all the bottom cupboard doors drying on the picnic table in the backyard. It wasn't a real smart move as that is one of Lucy's favorite sunbathing spots. As luck would have it, soon enough I discovered Lucy soaking in the sunshine where?, but on top of the cupboard doors. It wasn't a total disaster, just a partial one. The paint wasn't wet enough to get on her, but her stout body did do some damage to the paint that hadn't totally dried. (I didn't get mad because I thought she actually looked kind of cute sitting there on my gleaming white doors. Man, I love that dog.)

While I was pulling little fawn colored Lucy hairs off the doors I remembered a cute episode that happened to us back in Cranbrook.

Gordon and I went out to eat with another couple. When our salads came we began to eat, but within minutes Scott started complaining about a hair in his. He and his wife didn't take it in stride - not that I like it when hair is in my food, but I don't usually have a cow right then and there.

Scott quickly called the waiter over and began to protest. He went a little over-board. When he finished, the waiter said, "I understand, but it's not like it's a long hair. It's just a little one."

Scott said, "Quite frankly it's because of its size that I'm so bothered."

We all knew precisely what he meant and I think at that point we all lost our appetites.

A Good Friend

This is a little tale about someone I know who is a wonderful friend, a friend we would all be happy to have. Now just because she happens to be my child has no bearing on this tale whatsoever. Certainly mothers are biased, but I'm confident you'll agree that my little Deborah is a great friend.

Deborah has a new club. It's called the "Good Friends Club." Unfortunately the clubhouse is in my front yard - the unfortunate part being that it's in my front yard instead of my back yard. But I can live with it since she and her friends are having so much fun.

The club house is constructed of wood and cardboard. One neighbor boy has brought the masculine element to the club. He wrote "Keep Out" on it accompanied by a skull and cross-bones. The girls however put out the welcome mat, quite literally. There is a rug at the opening. They put down rugs (actually they're blankets) for the living room and there are 2 plastic chairs to sit in and visit. Yesterday I saw a comforter in the yard and asked what it was doing outside. They took a break from their sweeping the ground to tell me they were adding a bedroom to their clubhouse.

Every week at allowance time, Deborah takes her money to the dollar store to buy treats for the good friends club members. She takes it all very seriously. I take delight in seeing her playing so seriously and having much fun doing so.

This morning before school, the doorbell rang. Deborah got to the door first. It was one of her younger friends bringing a colored picture. Deborah didn't take it with the common simple "thank you." No, she said an exuberant thank you and told Nadia how much she loved it and how beautiful it was. I delighted in hearing her be so affirming of a younger child. I was blessed.

Deborah's best friend is Kalyna. She lives next door and they are two months apart in age. Since baby-hood they've been best friends. Kalyna's family consist of little people. Deborah's family consists of big people. They are just 2 months apart in age, they look a couple years apart. Deborah is a full head and shoulder taller than her best friend. Kalyna is about as petite as they come and Deborah is stout and hardy.

Kalyna has another friend named Megan. Deborah doesn't know Megan very well, so it seems to me that she would be jealous when Kalyna goes to Megan's. But she's not. She misses Kalyna while she's gone, but she never seems jealous.

A couple weekends ago Kalyna went to Megan's for a sleep-over. At supper that night Deborah thanked God that Kalyna got to go to Megan's house and asked Him to help them have a really good time together.

Now is it just me or is that a great friend?

House for Sale

Over the past 2 weeks, we've toyed with selling our house. We've decided against it.

Thinking about selling, I recollected and laughed over and over about when Kent and I lived on Hastey Street. You may remember the story of the carpenter, I think I called him Ralph in my previous story, that we hired to re-do our master bathroom. It wasn't a good experience. Ralph was very very poor at carpentry.

I had a friend named Carolyn who was an absolute hoot. We had so much fun together, although we only hung out at school and work. Generally we didn't see each other away from those two settings. But once I invited Carolyn over to swim.

We had just put the house on the market and the new For Sale sign stood beside the road.

When Carolyn pulled up, I think I met her outside where she promptly began asking why we were selling and things like that. As we started inside, I changed our course from front door to back door because something was wrong with the front door. (I can't recall what was wrong, but within minutes of arriving at my house, I non-chalantly pointed out two things that we had to avoid because they didn't work properly. I wish I could remember what they were as it would make this tale more interesting, but I cannot.)

That very morning incompetent Ralph had wrapped up his work in the bathroom. It was a horrible disappointment. I was still reeling and took her to see the reason for my disappointment. After I showed it to her, I suggested she just stay there to change into her swimsuit. Therefore she was the first user of the new, horribly-re-done-by-an-incompetent-carpenter, bathroom.

She closed the door and then noticed there was no toilet paper. She tried to re-open the door, but couldn't. It was too tight. (More of Ralph's handiwork.) You needed to body-shove it open and she wasn't comfortable with that. She yelled at me and I returned with toilet paper. I forcefully jerked the door open to hand her the toilet paper. I left, shutting the tight door behind me.

Carolyn used the toilet and stripped off all her clothes to put on her swimsuit at the same time. Then she made the grave mistake of flushing the newly installed toilet. Need I remind you it was installed by an incompetent carpenter? Terrible noises erupted. Noises I couldn't identify, except Carolyn's yelling. "VALERIEEEE! VALERIEEE!"

I ran into the bedroom, forced the bathroom door open and there was Carolyn, naked, straddling the toilet trying to shut off the water supply to the toilet. The water pressure in the tank had dislodged the tank lid when she flushed and water was forcefully shooting straight up.

As anyone might have been, Carolyn was discombobulated by the whole ordeal. I squeezed into the tight fit with her and we managed to get the water supply turned off. As I'm turning the valve, Carolyn, wet with toilet water, naked, and shaken, yelled, "NO WONDER YOU WANT TO SELL THIS HOUSE!! IT'S FALLING APART!!"

Odetta

A few days ago Stacie and I were recollecting on school-life of so many days ago. We told stories about our old friend Odetta. Odetta was in Stacie's grade, but I claimed her as a friend too. After we talked at length about those days, I got off the phone determined to "look her up."

I typed in her first name and the state I'd heard she was in. I found an Odetta and called the number. Guess what? It was her! Can you believe the wonders of the World Wide Web?

We talked a while catching up in a short time about life in the past 20 years; husbands, kids, jobs. Then we told stories about way back when. One story will be of interest to some of my readers.

I know I've been known to whine about the abuse I suffered at my brother's hand. I know many of you may think I exaggerate, but God is my witness, I do not. (But he's nice now, just so you know.)

Odetta told a story that I don't remember. She wears a chipped tooth and my brother is responsible for it. Odetta, fortunately, is good spirited and mature about it.

Now Odetta couldn't recall how Michael coerced her into this, but I remember his methods well; is always involved force. Michael forced us to participate in his "games."

So anyway, Michael made Stacie and Odetta to hold their mouths open along the side of the kitchen table so he could play pool. He shot a ball against Odetta's mouth and chipped her front tooth.

Do that amuse anyone like it did me?

Having found Odetta, I'm curious to find another old friend. Does anyone know where I can find Shelly Potter. I saw her Christmas '92 and her last name was Gribble. I've had no luck finding her since. Can anyone help me?

Happy Birthday Debbie

This week my best friend--also the friend I've had the longest-- turns 44. I can hardly believe how old she's gotten. :-)

Debbie and I became friends years ago through our husbands. Steve and Kent were best friends, so after Kent and I married, she and I were sort of forced into friendship. Truthfully, I tolerated her at first. She was too forceful for my taste. On occasion I called her a Yankee and I didn't mean it nicely. (She's from Iowa, and Iowa is north of the Mason Dixon, you know.)

Being forceful, she forced her way into my life. I was aloof and snotty and she was jovial and gregarious. When we ended up on the same block--simply a few houses from each other-- I began to love her and appreciate her. She accepted me for who I was, only occasionally calling me a snot. I eventually came to find her forceful, bossy way refreshing.

We've said over the years that we had "community" before it became a popular subject. Unfortunately neither of us knew back then just how good we had it. How many people can walk to their best friend's house in 2 minutes? How many people can feel comfortable chatting in the living room while the other irons? How convenient is it when you can make a phone call and say, "we're ordering Sonic. Ya want anything?" I'd give nearly anything to have that kind of "community" now. But she's in Florida and I'm in Canada.

Debbie is hilarious, laughs easily, doesn't take herself too seriously. She's commited, good, and kind. She's also quirky. I've never been big into the ironing scene, but Debbie use to iron everything. To me that requires a lot of attention to detail. So how could someone who is so detailed in ironing totally miss obvious details in other areas? One time I recall 4 jugs of milk sitting on her table, all of them sour and curdled. That night as Kent and I walked home, he said, "there was another jug of sour milk on the table tonight." (There had been only 3 the previous visit.) He sighed, "I've been thinking, maybe we shouldn't eat her cooking anymore." Debbie and I still laugh at that one.

Once she and I got it in our heads that we could make a killin' by having a booth at a craft sale. We rented a space for Lum and Abner's craft sale in the park. Over the next weeks (months?), we sanded, stained, and painted a bajillion geese that said, "I Love Country," cutting boards with roosters on them, and dozens of colorful wooden tulips. We were proud of our acomplishments. The night before the craft sale started, we loaded our boxes with care. As we knelt on the floor wrapping our hand-crafted valuables, Debbie informed, "I figured it up. If I sale everything I've made, I'll make $435."

The next 2 days held nothing but humiliation for us. Hundreds of folks looked at our crafts, and moved on. We sold nothing all weekend but one cutting board, and it was to my sympathizing kind mother-in-law. We were so embarrassed and quickly gave up the craft business.

Debbie and I were always scheming to find ways to make money. We had a couple garage sales, and we did well on them. The last one we had I wore a new underwire bra that felt like it was cutting me. I went inside to take it off for a spell to get some relief. I had no more gotten the bra off when Debbie bolted through the backdoor like a maniac screaming indiscernable craziness. "GET OUT THERE! Oh Dear Jesus, help me! GET OUT THERE! Jesus, help me. GET OUT THERE! John, Dora, and Cora are out there. GO, GET OUT THERE!"

I was clearly "in the dark" why she couldn't face these older folks from church, but I was not about to go outside without a bra on. She screamed again, "GET OUT THERE!" and I screamed back, "I DON'T HAVE A BRA ON. I CAN'T GO OUT THERE." We screamed at each other like crazy women; I'm sure our 3 shoppers could hear us. Debbie calmed down enough to beg instead of yell. "Please, you've got to go out there. All the wedding gifts they gave us are out there."

I don't recall how it came to be, but we both ended up out there. John, Dora, and Cora bought all the gifts they'd given Debbie as wedding presents and they went to Debbie to pay for them. When they drove off, we nearly died laughing.

Debbie was like a second mom to Stephanie. Stephanie called Steve and Debbie, "Uncle Stoobie" and "Aunt Doobie." Debbie would have gladly taken Stephanie off my hands. They loved each other very much.

Now Debbie is a mom. Katie, Caleb, and Carly are very blessed to have a mom just like Debbie. And it goes without saying that Steve is amazingly blessed to have Debbie for a wife.

I wish we still lived down the street from each other. I'd love for our kids to grow up together. I'd love to watch her iron again. I'd love to go get Sonic burgers together again. What I wouldn't give to have that "community" again. She was a great friend to me--the best I've ever had. I'm so glad to have her in my life although it's a lot different now that we have thousands of miles between us.

Debbie I hope you have a GREAT birthday. I want to be just like you when I'm your age. :-)))) I love you.

Debbie

My dear, dear friend Debbie had breast cancer and subsequently has to visit her doctors often. This week her doctor did his touchy feely routine on her breasts yet again. Anxious to confirm there were no new lumps, she asked, "Do they feel good?"

The difference in Debbie and me is that she can immediately laugh at herself. I have to emotionally recover first. That recovery has taken anywhere from 2 hours to 25 years. Debbie has mentored me, perhaps unknowingly, in how to laugh at myself. She learned how much earlier in life than me and has consistently lived it. What a gift she has. I so admire her ability to laugh at her own foibles -- immediately.

Hannah

Last night, I was sitting on Hannah's bed as I tucked her in. After I prayed for her she said, "You forgot to pray for me a friend."

I prayed again, this time specifically for her a friend. When I finished I said, "You know Hannah, sometimes the answers to our prayers are right in front of us."

Puzzled, she asked what I meant.

I mini-lectured, "Well perhaps your 'good friend' is someone you already know and go to school with. Perhaps the answer to our prayers won't be a new student. Maybe there is someone in your class who is wanting a friend too. Perhaps there is someone there already that once you get to know better, you'll really like and want for your best friend."

For a brief moment, Hannah looked horrified. With eyes wide, she said, "It better not be Jeremy."

Hannah Needs a Friend

Dear God,

Hannah has never had a good friend other than her sisters. She wants a friend. Please send her one. She is sad today. Please fill her heart with joy. Show her Your kindness and goodness by giving her the desire of her heart. Show her how you care about ALL the details of her life. Please give her joy and peace.

Thank you for loving Hannah even more than I do. Amen.