i am a butterfly…

Posts Tagged ‘friends’

When I was little, we moved a lot. I was in a new school in new towns in 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grades, another one in another town for junior high, and then a private high school, where I got to stay until I graduated. As you can imagine, moving so much made it hard to develop any lasting friendships. I’ve always felt like an outsider among groups of friends, like I don’t fit in anywhere, and I’m sure that moving around had a lot to do with that.

It didn’t help much that I’m a natural introvert, so making new friends has never been easy for me. I’ve always felt more comfortable in my own head and in books than interacting with other people, though I sometimes wonder if that’s as much a result of moving so much as it is an innate inclination. I think I also, at some point, stopped really putting a lot of effort into friendships, because what was the point when I would most likely be leaving at some point? It was easier to move away from people I didn’t really care about than to leave really good friends.

But there’s always been one exception to this, and that exception is my friend Francesca. We met in 2nd grade, when I was 6 and she was 7.  I don’t remember if we bonded instantly upon meeting, but we pretty quickly became fast friends. It seems like I was at her house every day after school, and her family was like a surrogate family for me. Here we are having a tea party on a cardboard box in her yard (me on the left, her on the right):

We had some arguments over stupid things, like kids do. There was the Helen incident, when the popular girl in our class decided to not like Francesca. When Helen decided to not like you, that meant none of the other girls were allowed to like you. I cringe to think of it now and am ashamed to admit that I didn’t stick by my friend during that time, but somehow we made it through that and stayed friends.

There was the time we were mad at each other over SOMETHING, I have no idea what, and had a fight outside her house. We yelled and she tried to hit me with her hair, and then her mother came out and offered us glasses of milk to cool off.

There was the Great Honeysuckle Purge of 3rd Grade, which I won’t relate here right now, to spare myself her groans when she reads this. Suffice to say that the honeysuckle incident has gone down in infamy and Francesca is thoroughly sick of hearing about it, but when I saw her mother recently at her bridal shower, the first thing she said to me was, “The last time I saw you, you said I was an overbearing mother” and the second thing she said to me was, “Do you remember when you ate the honeysuckle?”

Somehow, Francesca and I stayed friends through all my moves. We talked on the phone without seeing each other in person for years. As we grew up, we remained interested in the same things. When we could both drive, we saw each other a little more frequently. We went to concerts together, went to Cape Cod together, and just generally spent more time together.

A couple of years after college, we drifted apart and didn’t see each other or speak for a few years. I’m not really sure what happened, but I suppose I just didn’t put much effort into it. My mid 20’s were a crazy, selfish, and did I meantion crazy? time of my life. But in 1999, when I was getting ready to be married, I was thinking a lot about her. I was remembering how we always talked about how we would be in each other’s weddings, and I started to realize how much I wanted her there at my wedding. So I sent her an invitation, along with a letter telling her how much I missed her and wanted her to come.

She did come, and suddenly we were in each other’s lives again. And 2 months ago, I was maid of honer at HER wedding.

Here we are last weekend, knitting at Yankee Stadium and trying to be alert for foul balls while the husbands watched the game (me on the left again, her on the right again):

So K is for Kindred spirit, and also for Kim, and for Knitting!

This past Saturday, June 14th, I had the great pleasure and honor to stand up for my longest friend* as her maid-of-honor when she married her great love. It was a great privilege for me, and I’m thankful to her for the opportunity, even if I was terrified about giving a speech in front of All Those People at the reception.

As a result of the happy occasion, the weekend flew by in a blinding swirl of silk and flowers. If it seemed to pass that quickly for me, I can’t imagine how fast it seemed for the bride and groom. I think they enjoyed their day immensely, though, and I hope they’re having a smashing time on their honeymoon.

Another great honor for me was that she wore the necklace and earrings I wore when I married Scott, as her “something borrowed.” When we were getting dressed in the hotel, the photographer was taking photos of her dress, laid on the bed, with her jewelry and bouquet. I commented that I chose her jewelry, and then realized that I also pushed very hard for the flowers in the bouquet – purple calla lillies; they were stunning – and I also chose the groom! Well, sort of, anyway; I introduced them. F. then reminded me that I also named one of her cats. I really don’t know what she’d do without me. I think she needs to let me name any kids that come along, too, just to keep up my streak.

*She sometimes comments here as “fm,” so some of you may have noticed her hanging around here. Interestingly, she gets to keep the same initials even though she’s taking her husband’s name. So she’ll still be “fm” when she comments.

Saturday afternoon, we threw a bridal shower for my very dear friend F. I think it went splendidly, despite a few bumps in the road along the way during the planning*.

F. and I have been friends since I was 6 and she was 7, which is more years ago than I care to remember, but we’re in our third decade of friendship. Crazy, right? Because of our long friendship and because she is so happy with her husband-to-be – a prince finally found after a whole lot of toads – it was really important to me to make sure this day was special for her. And I think it was. She seemed pretty pleased with it all, and I think everyone who attended had a great time. I’m really happy with how it all turned out.

Of course, it really wasn’t a full-contact event. That’s just a joke, but I ended up as injured as if it was one. During food prep Friday night, I nearly severed a fingertip while chopping apples. Just the fleshy pad at the tip of my finger, not the bone, but there were some touch and go moments while Scott and I pondered the emergency room. Eventually, I decided against it, and that’s fine, because I don’t think stitches were necessary. The edges of the cut are even, not ragged, and we got the bleeding stopped pretty quickly** It’s staying closed on its own, too, so that’s good. I was going to get a tetanus shot yesterday, but I got lazy and didn’t, and now I probably won’t. Don’t lecture me. Shush.

Then, on Saturday, my husband decided to drive through Manhattan to the bakery to pick up the cupcakes, instead of taking the Cross Bronx and coming down the west side, which resulted in us sitting in bumper to bumper traffic for 45 minutes. THAT resulted in me getting out of the car and running to Ninth and 37th from Sixth and 40th, then back up to Ninth and 41st, because the bakery moved and I didn’t know, in shoes that were NOT meant for cross-town sprints. So my heels are blistered and hurt, and I’m so grateful right now that I don’t have to wear shoes most days, because that would be ouchy.

But it was all for a good cause, and I’d do it all over again, partially severed fingertip and all, if it meant giving F. a special day.

I should also mention that her future in-laws stepped up to the plate big time and opened their home to us for the shower when we had to change the original plans. It’s a warm and welcoming family F. is marrying into, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

*The surprise was blown early on by a very apologetic grandmother, the bridesmaid at whose home it was supposed to be ended up being put on permanent bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy, etc. You know, normal shower drama! Hopefully getting this out of the way early will ensure an uneventful wedding day.

**Good thing I remember something of my first aid training from 15 years ago!

We got home yesterday from an incredible weekend of friends and music. It was just what I needed, even if there was some yucky stuff along the way that may lead to a yucky decision in the next few weeks. More about that another time, though.

Railroad Earth was way better in Woodstock than in Northampton, but both shows were worth the trip. Scott was particularly pleased to not have to drive either night, as we had a hotel within walking distance on Friday and K. was our designated grown-up on Saturday. That’s a rare treat for Scott, to not have to watch his alcohol consumption and stop drinking before intermission. A treat for me, too, really, since I usually don’t drink much when he can’t drink, either.

I discovered that a couple of people I know but didn’t know read my blog read my blog. (Did I mangle the language in that sentence, or what?) That’s always a surprise, though a nice one. Obviously, I live my life for the world to see! It’s just still strange for me, though, because I’ve been doing this for 6 years – as of last Monday – and it’s only in the past year or so that I’ve been meeting people in person who say, “Hey, I read your blog.” Sometimes I think only those of you who comment are reading.

I tried to articulate that to the first J. who mentioned it to me on Saturday, but I’d already spent the afternoon drinking my way toward the show and I think I may have ended up sounding unwelcoming, which is absolutely not what I meant.

So, hi J. and J.! Welcome!

In all, it was a really great weekend, spent with wonderful people and wonderful music. I hugged a Goat and a Hun and a Toad and had my ass squeezed by a Mouse.

And, oh yeah, yarn! I won’t even mention how much I spent at WEBS, but as K. pointed out at the time, think how much I saved on shipping!

Happy as a family
Happy hand in hand
Happy as a family singing

Happy as a banjo
Happy as I am
Happy as a banjo ringing

An acquaintance just announced that he and his wife are expecting their fourth child. His wife is 38, which is the same age I am.

Okay, fine. They’re not greedy. They’re great parents to the three they have and they’re thrilled about the new one. But sometimes it seems like everyone else in the world is stealing all the damned fertility.

I’ve been handling this IVF stuff pretty well, I think. Yeah, there was a breakdown at the end of the first cycle when it didn’t end in pregnancy, but it was a fairly short-lived breakdown and I bounced back pretty quickly.

This current cycle, I’ve been bouncing through pretty well, staying upbeat and keeping my eye focused straight ahead on only the next hurdle – cyst aspiration, start stims, retrieval, etc. – so I was pretty surprised when we walked out the door last night and got in the car, and I immediately felt like crying. I held it together and didn’t, but I felt fragile and vulnerable, both physically and emotionally, all night long. That feeling of being about to start crying went away when we got into the show and I started talking knitting with MamaLo and chatting about Ravelry with Cricket and catching Bruce up on what F is up to these days and dissecting the previous two shows with a whole bunch of other people. I guess I forgot about feeling sad for a while.

Still, when the band started playing, I put Scott in front of me and stuck to him pretty closely, because those fragile and vulnerable feelings were still there. And yet, no one was as shocked as I was when the band broke into Storms and I practically started sobbing. It threw me; I didn’t think that song could affect me that much anymore, especially because I really thought that everything was okay. But, I guess it’s not.

The crying ended when Storms ended, thankfully, though I still spent the rest of the night keeping Scott really close and being a lot more clingy than normal. I guess this IVF thing is getting under my skin more than I realized.

A friend of mine is currently homeless. Not out on the streets homeless, but between apartments homeless. He’s been staying on relatives’ couches and in a hotel when he can afford it.

I know he’s hinting that he’d like us to ask him to stay with us, but we haven’t asked so far. In a way, it would make it a lot easier right now if he WAS out on the streets homeless, because then we’d have him move in without question.

To be brutally honest, though, I do not want him living with us, and if he did stay with us for a while, who the hell knows how long it would turn out to be? So as long as he actually has other options, as unpalatable to him as they are, I feel sort of off the hook. Sort of off the hook and pressured at the same time.

Is it wrong of me to not help him out at a time like this? It feels selfish., but I really don’t want him living here.

While B & K were here, one of the things K wanted to do was learn to knit. So I cleverly arranged for us all to visit the Union Square greenmarket, under the guise of wanting to show them a bit of “real” New York. Then, when we were looking for a place to eat, I urged us all east on 14th St. When we chose a Thai place near Third Ave., hey! What a coincidence! Knit New York is just up the block!

With a bit of help from a very nice woman who worked there – or was the owner, maybe – we set her up with two skeins of Naturewool Chunky and a pair of size 10 needles. Bamboo, because she tried to knit previously, but with metal, and we know how difficult metal can be, particularly for beginners.

The good news is, it didn’t even scare her husband when I walked about with $140 worth of yarn, even though I said I was just going to get a skein of sock yarn or two. So he knows what they’re in for if she decides she really likes it.

I taught her the backward loop cast on, which I think is the easiest cast on, and the long tail method, which is usually what I use. She’s a pretty quick learner, even with my fumbling teachings, and was soon knitting away on a garter stitch scarf. It was really fun for me to teach someone to knit; this was my first time. And hopefully, next time we see them, in March, I will have created a new fiber geek.

I think most of my friends feel sad for me being home alone all day. They think I must be lonely. The thing is, I’m not. Not at all. I like to spend time alone, and being around people for too long rubs my psyche ragged. Scott picked me up from my pottery class yesterday, and we sat in the car together in utter silence, for the first time in a week. It was soothing.

My friends are all awesome and I love them dearly, but I’m in heaven being home alone today.