Archives for March 2011

Harv’s birthday is next Monday. The fact that I remembered the correct month this year should be gift enough. Last year, I thought his birthday was in April. When he tried to correct me, I told him that he was a liar and that he should be ashamed of himself. If you want to find a way to frustrate your loved one quickly, try to convince him that he doesn’t know his own birth date. That should do the trick.

I’d like to do something special for him. The last time I attempted this was on his 30th birthday.

We had been married for less than a year, and I wanted to create a picture album with some of our incredibly classy pictures-

• our Elvis wedding in Vegas
• me, pushing little kids out of the way, at Dave & Buster’s Spin-to-Win game
• a debaucherous Halloween (He was my pimp; I was Ho White, Snow White’s promiscuous sister)
• a family day trip with Cal to the Cabbage Patch Hospital (people, I still have nightmares)
• a ghost tour in Key West (even today, get a puppet near me, and I will lose my shit)

I had every good intention of finishing before his birthday rolled around. Then, I got sidetracked by a Little House on the Prairie mega-marathon.

Too caught up in finding out if Mary Ingalls regains her sight, I didn’t finish the album.

Harv deserves a spectacular birthday. It’s his reward for putting up with me every single day and a “thanks” for not pushing me in the face that one time he told me he preferred cats over dogs, and I called him Cat Man for a week afterwards.

Do you have a “best” birthday memory? How did you celebrate? Any ideas for Harv?
image via franticmeerkat shop @ etsy.com

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Seek mutually satisfying friendships. 

It used to be a lot easier. Get into a disagreement with a friend, and after a few huffs and puffs, maybe even a pinch or a smack to the head…friendship differences could be resolved.

Once, my friend Janice accused me of not being able to spell “apple.” She was right, of course, but my pride got the best of me and I stuttered out “A-P-L.”

She howled with laughter. I pinched her forearm. The pinch broke skin.

After that, I was known in our suburban neighborhood as the five-year-old juvenile delinquent, but Janice didn’t judge. We were still friends…after the scabs fell off.

She reminded me of that incident for ten years, but then I caught her at The Grand 24 movie theater with my boyfriend, Tanner. She said we were even. I agreed.

Tanner dumped me and started dating Janice. I pretended not to notice. Our conversations were a little awkward. She’d blush and babble on incessantly about the cute way Tanner would put his hand on her knee while he was driving his 1989 Ford Ranger.

Yes, I’d think, I know what that’s like, too.

I moved away at 18, and our friendship drifted apart. With a little distance, and a lot of clarity, I began to see the lopsided nature in our friendship. I certainly wasn’t blameless (hey, I did break skin and I may have told her that her crush on Joey from NKOTB was shameful), but the older I got, the more I realized that there is a difference between loving a friend for who they are and letting a friend walk all over you.

I’m a recovering friendaholic.

Shitty friendships? You too?! How did you draw the line? What finally sent you over the edge?
image via franticmeerkat shop @etsy.com