Holla Muller!
Muller, Good Dog and me at the pony pasture late 80s
It's official: I have become alarmingly withdrawn from social contact. Not really a good place for an ex-agoraphobic to be, but at least this time my withdrawal is due to actual choice, rather than fucked up devastating biological disorder. This school stuff has truly taken over my life! Ack!
But I am already digressing ...
Today my best friend in the whole world called me at work to check on me and see if I was okay. It'll take a bit of background to understand why this was such a significant gesture.
Muller and I have been buds since we were 16 year old punk rockers hanging out at underground clubs. I don't even remember how we met. I could have been during a then frequent spray painting expedition - hell, it might even have been the very night my little crew almost got arrested for spray painting an actual breathing, though passed out, bum. We might have met during an also frequent late night foray into an abandoned (and reputably haunted) girls' school. It might even have been at the anarchy house we called Place One, where the fact that the balcony was about to collapse didn't stop us from crowding it on a hot summer night to load our wrist rockets with rocks to shoot at the windows of the newly constructed corporate high rise across the street. (Urbanization resentment at its finest folks!) Hee. Those were crazy times; they were scary times; but they were good times.
It doesn't matter how we met, just that we deemed each other cool enough to accept into our respective existences and have been besties ever since. Lately we find ourselves laughing as, in the middle of a conversation, we realise we are talking about our latest wrinkles or urinary problems and we both realise just how old - and thus uncool - we have become.
We have experienced over 25 years of shared milestones - marriage (I don't think either of us has ever approved of any guy the other dated!) pregnancy and childbirth (I wasn't pregnant the same time as Muller, but her favourite horse was pregnant when I was, therefore her past equine obstetrical experience served both Polly and me well. I still crack up about the time I was unsure if I was going into labour so I called my "vet" Muller, who asked in all seriousness, "Are your teats leaking?"
So, we have arrived at that comfortable point of friendship where we don't need to talk every day - or week - or sometimes month. Just knowing the other is out there - just a phone call away if a heart gets broken or someone needs bailed out - is enough.
So, that is why the phone call today was significant. We both dislike gabbing on the phone and we both lead such busy lives that we don't have the freakin' time to make a phone call - much less during the actual workday. But Muller read my last rant about being tired and overwhelmed and she was worried so she made it a point to call.
That, people, is what true friendship is all about. It's not what this particular blog entry was supposed to be all about, but as I typed tonight I found myself feeling really blessed to have her in my life so ....
This one's for you Muller - to let you know that I am fine and I that I love you!
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