Aug 30, 2010

enough...

Urbandictionary.com defines "friend" rather well by saying:
A person who would never intentionally hurt you, lie to you, deceive you, manipulate you, abuse you and who takes great care to be kind to you, honest with you, dependable and loyal. Someone who you trust without question because they have never given you any reason not to trust them. Someone you enjoy being around and look forward to seeing. Someone who would sacrifice themself for you.

I don't think that people are infallible. More specifically, I don't think that the people I consider my friends are infallible. And most importantly, I know that I am not. There is, however, a very distinct difference between having a bad day and judging a friend; making an err in judgement and being spiteful; having an argument with a friend and jealousy. 

I certainly make mistakes and can lose sight of what's most important, but never with the flagrant disregard of the fact that the person I am dealing with means a lot to me. I know that each day I try. I make an effort to be good to the people in my heart, even if they don't know it. Sometimes it's a matter of simple appreciation, that they may never be aware of, because all too often we don't say enough to each other. 

I've reached a point in my life where I truly appreciate the friends who are there for me and are honest with me. The friends I can be myself around, for better or worse. The friends who do not judge me, because they care about me as a person, and it doesn't matter if we are not operating at the same speed, or even on the same track. These are the people that on a daily basis make me want to be a better person, keep me going, and for whom I want to do whatever I can in return. For these people, I am eternally grateful. 

You know who you are. And if I don't say it enough—I love you.

Aug 9, 2010

Happy Birthday—From the Bugs

I took all the precautions. Well, no, not really—I took one precaution. I put on bug spray. I was at a Saturday evening party that would extend well into Sunday night. 'Burbs, backyard, grass—bug spray seemed like a good call. Who would have guessed that body armor would have been the better call?

Somewhere between horse balls (actually, ladder golf, but my name is WAY better) and the morning beer to cure the hangover, I began to notice I had a few bug bites. Sunday morning, there was another application of bug spray. By Sunday evening I was amazed at how many bug bites I had. My flip flops proved to be of no use, and to be fair, it probably didn't help walking around barefoot for eight hours. But, not once did I see a single bug on my legs. Clearly the bug spray was of no help, unless by bug spray the manufacturer didn't so much mean "repellant," but "this spray will attract the bugs to you like you were their mother."

By my Monday morning count, I was at 32 bug bites. I actually think it was more than that, but some bites teamed up to form a mega-bite. There is one under my ankle that, by no exaggeration, is about the circumference of a golf ball. By noon, I was losing my mind due to the uncontrollable itching and the seemingly uselessness of rubbing alcohol, vinegar, hydrocortisone cream, and bug itch relief cream. I was down to thinking the only viable option left was to set my legs on fire.

Beginning to consider that maybe something was wrong—West Nile virus, allergic reaction to a spider bite that was going to make my blood fully toxic at any given second, or some sort of crazy malicious ant venom—I called the doctor. He threw a prescription at me and didn't seem too concerned. So now, two hours later, I am waiting for the steroid cream to kick in. It has only so far made the bites ooze, which just doesn't seem ok.

So thank you bugs, for visiting me, so that on my birthday date I cannot wear a skirt. And although it will be over 100 degrees outside, I will be wearing pants, not because I fear you, but because you've made me look like a leper. And a special shout out to the bug spray manufacturer, thank YOU for making such a useful product.