For quite some time now, I’ve been trying to tackle the topic of “friendship”.
Doesn’t sound like it should be such a hard thing to write about, does it? Yet there are so many different views of what constitutes “friendship”.
For some people, friends are the people you build your social life around.
That’s not really how it works for me, tho’. Rather, my friendships are matters of the heart.
I’m pretty much a loner. I’m fairly introverted, quite content to be left alone with my own head, and I lean toward misanthropy. Not someone with large social requirements, by any stretch of the imagination.
Yet, I have what is apparently considered by many people to be “a lot” of friends - which seems almost contradictory.
It doesn’t feel that way, tho’.
Human nature (my own included) may irritate the pants off of me but getting to know the parts of people that rise above expectations is one of the great joys in life. Not that I’m looking for perfection, we’re all too checkered for that. In fact, I prefer people who have edges, places where the good meets the bad (or at least, will nod and wave at it in passing.)
Perhaps my expectations are different than the norm, but I don’t need for people to be ideal fits with me (my experience has been that you will spend a lot of time alone if you take that approach.) Instead, I look for areas of compatibility. In my book, finding those areas, or even actually drawing one out of someone, is well worth any effort or temporary discomfort. It’s like reading novels with happy endings - you gain something to help offset the vagaries of life.
When I think about my friends then, what I see is a collection of people who embody all the things that are good about humanity. The individual proportions of good to bad may vary, but every single one of them enrichs me. They bring good into my life… and keep my heart open to finding even more good in others.
And I am really, really tired of cancer snatching any of that goodness away from me.
“Glares must be inheritable, because [Elizabeth] and Kit have identical ones.”
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows
That up there ^^ is a genetically accurate statement.
I know this because I got my mother’s glare. Although, since I never had an adult’s interaction with her, I didn’t realized that fact until I was well into my twenties.
I was visiting home with my beau of the time and we were going through old family photos. I was curious to see his reaction to pictures of me as a child (wondering if he’d agree with SP, who took one look and declared, “Look at those eyes! You were an imp from hell!”), so we were digging deep into the past. So deep, in fact, that we came across a picture I didn’t recall ever seeing before. It was my mom, looking straight into the lens and letting you know she was NOT happy with the photographer. I turned to ask Dad what on earth had been going on, but got sidetracked by the fact that my beau had started howling with laughter - to the point that he was in danger of sliding off the couch.
I looked at him in utter confusion, completely bemused as to the source of his outbreak.
But he was looking at my Dad - who was nodding with a wry grin on his face.
Finally, the beau gasped out, “You’re braver than me for taking that picture… I run when she gets that look on her face!”
Now, I’ve always wished I looked more like my mom… but maybe not quite like that!
(Mine's not quite this caliber..., but pretty darned close!)
I think two days before Easter is a good time to learn The Bunny Hop, don’t you?
I like this performance of it - it’s authentic, shows the variations beyond simply dancing in a line, and there are no unfortunate bunny ears or painted noses in sight.
I’m also very amused by the moment at about 2:00, when one of the guys just drops his partner on the floor and keeps dancing, leaving her to worry about getting up herself.
Apparently chivalry began its decline many, many years ago!
This morning was my first venture-forth since they recommended the wearing of face masks… and it was a bizarre experience, to say the least. But at least I had something to wear - it had been touch and go there for a bit.
I do have the odd stash of respirator masks left over from the Big Project of Fall 2019, but those are not “wash and re-use”able and they’re too dratted expensive to use as throw-aways. I'm saving those for emergencies.
I don’t use bandanas.
There are no old t-shirts in my wardrobe… BG took care of that with his periodic, “wear something I can rip” instructions.
Nor was I willing to de-pleat a bunch of coffee filters. I need those for my coffee, dammit!
(Priorities, people!)
But that’s okay… I can sew something, right? It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece of tailoring, I just need a couple of layers of fabric between my respiratory system and the rest of the world.
Easy peasy.
I googled and found a simple, quick & easy pattern.
I found a suitable lone pillowcase that I was willing to sacrifice on the altar of public safety.
I measured, I cut, I ironed.
I gathered everything together, dusted off my long-ignored sewing machine, and stepped on the pedal.
*snap!*
The drive belt that moves the needle broke in half - a victim of age.
Muttering invective, I broke out needle, thread, and thimble… and began to hand sew.
My face masks were still simple… still fairly easy…
but by no stretch of the imagination were they “quick”
However, they are finished and functional.
You take your satisfaction where you can find it these days!
I was texting with a friend who lives with his elderly mother.
Naturally, the conversation turning to Stay At Home preparedness…
Him: We do have disinfectant wipes, altho’ not a lot of them…
Me: Yeah, I had to make my own with bleach solution. I got the ratio from the CDC.
Him: Cool! We have plenty of hand sanitizer, tho’.
Me: Missed that boat too. But I had recently bought a new bottle of isopropyl alcohol for cleaning computers, so I’m making my own sanitizer using that and aloe.
Him: That’s resourceful! But if you start telling me about how you wove your own toilet paper with pulp made from downed limbs in your yard, I’m going to hang up on you…
