I am at a very fortunate stage in my life, where my schedule is incredibly flexible. So when one of my best friends from high school, who I haven't seen in person since I was pregnant with my first child (I think -- maybe longer), said she would be in this area for a wedding, it was no trouble to drop everything and see her. Until the magic of Facebook, we had completely lost touch, but we picked up our conversation like it was just yesterday when we had a standing vow to call each other the moment an Adam Ant video started playing on MTV, so neither of us would miss it. She was across the street from me downtown, with her sister-in-law, about to take pictures of a historical building when I caught sight of her today, and I recognized her in an instant. She's still so beautiful -- enviably trim, and gorgeous in that earthy, outdoorsy way that I've always thought was supremely attractive. After most of three decades apart, it was surprising how much we had in common still. We both live near the coast, but neither of us were willing to meet at a seafood restaurant. I suggested by text that it was our upbringing in cattle country, moments after she said the same thing to her husband on her end. She could only be in town briefly, because she had a brood of quadrupeds at her house who couldn't be left with a sitter for long. Again, it sounded familiar. Topic after topic, we found ourselves agreeing, saying "me, too!" and ready with a corroborating story. It felt really good to have that bond with someone who understands my past, and who made a lot of the same choices I did along the way. I loved her like a sister in high school, and I will love her until I die. I've been walking on air since she told me she would be in town. It wasn't until I was driving away that I realized we hadn't gotten a single picture together. And then I remembered until her daughter force-tagged her on Facebook, she had been a bit camera shy. I'm not all that wild about photographs of myself either, so perhaps that's one more way we ended up the same after we parted as teenagers.
I'm a bundle of nerves, and I don't know whether it's from today's excitement or in anticipation of all the plans for the next year or two that I've been obsessing over. For someone who wants to plant roots here (pun intended), I am awfully anxious and eager about the idea of building a shipping container house, and I'm even warming to the idea of the school bus/RV conversion more than I ever thought I would. Moving is hard enough, but the idea of storing all of my stuff that gives me the comfort of familiarity through each new house, and setting off for months at a time in a big, rolling catbox... I mean, "schoolie," terrifies me. So how is it that the thing that scares me so much is starting to sound like an adventure? The man may be correct. It might be a now or never setup. If I can win a few battles, like tastefully appointing the schoolie, and not making the paint and finishes goofy and loud, then I might just be willing to throw caution to the wind and drive in the gypsy caravan until we are ready to come to a halt in the mountains somewhere. One thing is for certain, it would make for a hell of a blog.
Since I am under obligation to provide fresh photos, and I took none from my trip to town, nor any of my freshly manicured lawn (thank you, neighbor's son!), all I have to share today is one I took as my anniversary flowers opened and entertained me last month. Pretend they are in honor of the wedding my old friend attended.
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