Anniversary: Yay Me!

I thought I'd celebrate my one year blogging anniversary with a story that showcases how influential friends can be.

My BFF + ∞ is a tiny beautiful creature that is as tough as she is sweet. Inches shy of 5 feet she is the epitome of the saying "Big things come in small packages".

My Nana told me once that you are lucky in life if you find one true friend. I'm not sure how I won the cosmic lottery, because not only is she that one true friend, we met before starting preschool, and although I lived in a rural area where neighbors are distant and neighbors with kids your age are almost unheard of, she & I lived on the same road.

We're physical opposites in many ways--I'm average height and dark haired while she's short, blond & blue-eyed. She's gymnast-flexible while I can't touch my toes without bending my knees. She can sing, I cannot hold a tune in a bucket. As we grew up and started school we bemoaned the fact that we never had classes together and as a result we ended up running in different social circles. Her beauty and bubbly efervescence destined her to be part of the "in" crowd while my bookwormish tendancies and overactive imagination lead me to geekdom. People on the outside sometimes had a hard time understanding why we were friends, but we would only smile mysteriously and enjoy their confusion.

Perhaps it was part of the reason that we fell into believing that I was the smart one and she the pretty one. Stupid, really, because we were both smart and beautiful, but that was how it was. A gamer goddess I might be, but one look at this girl and my nerd-harem were drooling and falling over themselves every time they learned she was single (however, my hubby has gratifying told me recently that I'm "way hotter" and he's all that matters).

Less easy to convince my BFF that she was smart...although she IS incredibly intelligent. Several years with the wrong man had almost convinced her that she wasn't, but luckily she's done with him now and recognizes her own worth.

But back when we were younger? Because I was the "smart one", if I said something, it had to be true.

We had a long bus ride to school and we spent a lot of time playing pretend and giggling. We used to share the little tupperware container of applesauce my mom would diligently pack for my lunch on the ride home, dipping our fingers in and eating it sans spoon. In one particular bout of youthful silliness and defacement, we smeared some on the bus seat in front of us.

And were horrified but fascinated with the fact that it was still there, hard and crustified, the following day. This naturally led to a discussion on boogers, as this hardened dab of applesauce now appeared distantly related to said bodily mucus.

"Where do boogers come from?" she wonders aloud idly.
"Oh easy! They're you're brain shedding," I respond matter-of-factly.

I will point out that at this point I believed it myself; after all, it made a strange sort of sense to me. We hadn't gotten to the mucus membrane part of health yet, but somewhere I had picked up the bit of trivia on exactly how mummy's brains are removed via the nose and extrapolated a theory that to me was definitely plausible.

We both pondered this for a minute, myself proudly at the wonders of my logic. I mean, c'mon! Boogers are a strange color (don't tell me you've never seen one) that could vaguely be related to brain matter color. Why else would your nose fill up with snot? Obviously little kids are often snotty because they're growing & learning so much, so the brain has to shed more often to keep up.

Duh!

Eventually I learned about mucus membranes and the function they provide for the body.

She, however, came to me incensed one day years later.

"You know what? I told someone that boogers are your brain shedding, and they laughed at me! They told me they weren't and I argued with them, telling them how my super smart friend had told me so it had to be true. You lied to me!"

She tried to hold the indignant look but as always, failed to hold it under the barrage of giggles from my direction. Soon we were collapsed in hopeless puddles of laughter, clutching our stomachs at the pleasant hurt this episode was causing in our midsections.

Happy Anniversary, self.

I love you BFF + ∞

Thanks for believing in me, understanding without words, and all the things a true friend does for another over the years.

I still think brain shedding is a WAY better explanation than mucus.

Getting Started

There's a first time for everything.

First time I've worked without taking cigarette breaks.
First time I've ever blogged.
First time my New Year's resolutions didn't include losing weight.
First time for truly testing that thing they call "will power".

Sometimes things stick the first time you try them. Sometimes they don't. I'm hoping that the non-smoking will stick this first time around. It's both harder and easier than I thought.

Things that stuck:

Reading--definitely a great big sticky one there. Sometimes I've paid for having a larger-than-usual vocabulary, but more often it's enriched my life (and kept me from having to think as much).

Fantasy/Sci Fi. Not sure if this would have happened to me regardless (my inner geek says "Yes") but I convienently blame my dad. Well, he DID give me my first chapter book that I can remember reading, and it was a Sci-Fi book by Andre Norton. I about blew his mind later on when I informed him that Andre was a girl.

Rainbows. I've loved them a long, long time. So far it's not going away. But I can probably point a finger to my early childhood as the source of this unreasoning delight at the color spectrum's display. When you grow up in a room with windows on three sides facing the east, with sky-blue carpet and rainbows on the walls, and you regularily play My Little Ponies, some love of the rainbow is bound to get stuck onto your likes early on. At least that's my excuse.

Things that didn't stick:

Dolls. Just couldn't get into the Barbie-doll thing or other kinds of dolls. Maybe it was because no one in my family was blonde. It's not for lack of maternal instinct (I have it on good authority that I'd make a pretty great mom). Or maybe it was this overriding obsession with horses that got in the way.

First time I tried Magic the Gathering it didn't stick. I was a bit of a geek-snob in high school. A friend of mine tried to show me how to play, thinking (rightly) that it was just the kind of thing I would like. I brushed him off and told him "This is too hard; this is too boring; this is too..." and whatever other excuses I had for not trying something new long enough to get a fair pictureof whether I actually liked it or not.

Thank goodness I learned in the fullness of time that you need to give some things another chance.

What would I have missed out on had I given up after the first failure to stick?

Salad dressing, mayonnaise, ribs. Hated them growing up but now I quite enjoy all three. "They" always said your palatte changes as you grow bigger. I viewed "them" with suspicion.

Skiing. I was completely hopeless that first field trip. It was a struggle just to get up the bunny hill. Couldn't turn for the life of me, but could snowplow like I was being paid to do it. While I can't call myself the best skier in the world, I can get down most of the hills in my native Minnesota without falling down too often.

So here's to being a sticky stubborn silly person to ensure that I never pass by a potential fun thing.

And I really hope that quitting smoking sticks with me. But just in case the first try fails, I will not give up so easily and will learn from my mistakes.