Post #6: I Must Really Love You!

If you're wondering why this post is numbered, see this post.  If you're wondering why this subject isn't listed in the post, it's because it's in the comments.  If you're wondering why I'm on #6, it's because this post was #7.  If you're wondering why I started at the end, it's because I decided to be difficult.  If you're wondering why I'm being difficult, you don't know me very well.

I'm the kind of girl who collects friends.  It must be that Woo strength on my StrengthFinders profile.  There's hardly a corner of my life that doesn't have a network of friends connected to it.  High school, college, seminary, pageants, church life, and all the sub-genres in-between have resulted in my 500+ facebook friends and my ability to run into someone I know almost any where I go. 

The dark side of this tendency is that while I've got quantity, I've rarely got quality.  Admittedly, I don't so much wear my heart on my sleeve as much as strip it down and show it to anyone who'll talk to me, which does sort of give the illusion of me having lots of close friends.  It's not exactly true: what I have are lots of trusted acquaintances, lots of people who know me well in a certain circumstance or situation, lots of people I'm somehow connected to, and a few actual close friends.

I am really, really fortunate to have all of these people in my life, whether they're close and tight friends or distant and loose contacts.  I like being a social butterfly.  I like running into old friends and making new ones.  Regardless, I'm particularly happy that I have that handful of good, dear friends who have come through bad and good things with me and are still giving me the time of day.  One of those dear friends is my girl JB.

JB and I met because we had people in common - namely, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, who we were mutually classmates with.  Eventually, JB and I became friends of our own accord.  She followed me to Miss America, helped me move to Vegas, listened to me cry and swear and yell and encourage and do all those things that friends do.  And I can't lie: there have been times where I wasn't sure JB and I were going to make it as friends.  Life isn't always easy, and when that happens, we tend to be hardest on those we care about most.  If JB and I were married (and some have suggested that we might as well be) I suspect we would've been separated at least once, and probably should have gone to some couples counseling.  But the truth is that we're stronger friends for it.  While I certainly don't advocate adversity as relationship building, it happened for us.  And I'm really, really glad for it.

JB is a big believer in Birthday Month, which means that you get to celebrate your birthday for longer than just the one day.  She goes by calendar month, meaning that for one month in the middle of the summer, we get to celebrate her for 31 days.  I'm pretty okay with that, especially since I'm often on the run that month and don't have to feel bad if I miss the precise date, as long as I get in a couple of days worth of birthday fun during the month.  This year, I managed to score us some tickets in the Legends Club of the new Target Field for her birthday.  It's a pretty sweet set-up, with exclusive food vendors and climate-controlled indoor seating options.

This is particularly notable because we went to a noon game, and it was about 110 degrees out.  I am not kidding.

Back when I lived in Vegas, it would easily get up to 112 degrees or so in the summer.  It was a terrible, soul-sucking heat.  I burned my hands on my steering wheel and my feet on the pavement.  For the first time in my life, I had to buy Gatorade to replace the electrolytes that my body was constantly sweating out.  I needed body lotion that was as thick as toothpaste, because the desert sun kept scorching my skin.  But in the midst of it all, people kept repeating the popular mantra: "It's not the heat, it's the humidity.  This isn't so bad.  It's a dry heat."  Baloney.  Heat is heat.  If it's physically dangerous to be outside, it doesn't matter what the dew point is.  It's hot.

That said, a day at the ballpark in Minnesota in the depths of a summer heat wave is a slightly different experience.  You couldn't sweat enough.  You couldn't drink enough water.  Nothing gave you any relief.  If you were in the sun, you were baking.  If you were in the shade, you were stifling.  It was not a fun day for baseball.

One thing helped.  (Well, two things, if you count the fact that we could sneak into the Legends Club air conditioning for two out of three innings at a time to cool off.)  I was with my girl.  We were talking, catching up, having fun, watching baseball, and celebrating her birthday.  Afterwards, we met up with our respective downtown-employee men for a beer.  I was a sweaty, stinky mess, but it wasn't a big deal.  I was with a good friend, we were celebrating, and life was good - even life on an oppressively hot and humid Minnesota day.

So, to JB and all my dear friends for whom I do occasionally ridiculous things: thank you.  It's a privilege to be your friend, and an honor that you love me back.