Megan & Josh
Megan and Josh

Best pal Megan and her 17 year old son Josh are visiting, a fact which always:

... feels totally normal, like they should just be here all the time asking, "So, what should we all do today?"

... transforms me into The Woman of Unstoppable Cheer.

DSC_0617When they're here it's like I've got an IV chock-full of uppers permanently attached and drip-drip-dripping into my bloodstream. The only other time I've got permagrin going like this is when I'm downhill boarding in fresh powder. My cheeks get sore when they visit.

We don't have to be doing anything, either. Even lolling around doing boatloads of nothing is fun. Which is SO not me. If The Varmint and I ever get testy with one another, it's usually because I'm pissed at the level of lolling about and the doing of nothing. I'm an action girl - if I'm not doing something, I usually feel like life is passing me by.

DSC_0599Other reasons I love Megan and Josh being here?

The going. And the doing. And the ease with which it all happens.

There's the adoration of my kid, which, let's face it, is a big plus for any mom.

There's the fact there are 30 years of history to roll around in, which is a deeply refreshing thing.

There's Meg's kid Josh. He is great to hang out with - smart, observant, insightful, hilariously sarcastic, helpful and kind. I'm not sure when all this coolness happened, but it's a refreshing change from the stereotypical crabby, greedy teen syndrome and gives me hope that Mak's teen years aren't going to make my hair fall out in big, scalpy blond hunks. 

But probably the biggest reason is Megan's great big hee-haw laugh. The woman is always smiling, and that laugh makes you feel like the funniest person in the room. It encourages you to do things like waggle your butt, do a hoe-down, and sing Lynrd Skynrd at the top of your lungs after bowling a strike because - obviously - that's the most hilarious thing, ever, and the fact that all bowling has stopped and every person in the place is frozen with horror and staring at your lane? Yeah, that doesn't even matter. Because it all becomes part of the ultimate story. The tapestry of your days since you were 10, and guess what? In the grand scheme of things? That blinding moment of humiliation is just a wee little nubbin, an infinitesmal speck, 'cause girl, you've got some stories. Real stories.

Stories totally not appropriate for a blog, mind you - but definitely appropriate for a hair-curling memoir to be published post-humously.

Thanks for being here, Megs. I love you. 


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >