That One Crazy Friend

You all know who I'm talking about.  She's that one person in your life that is pure joy to be with.  She is bigger than life and doesn't just go to parties, she IS the party no matter where she is.  She can walk into a room of fifty people she knows or fifty complete strangers and still have a great time and make a great time for all around her.

I've known my crazy friend since our children started playing soccer together almost twenty years ago.  Our friendship started while sitting on the sidelines shouting embarrassing encouragement at our children, who worked hard to ignore us.  We were the moms at the Chuckee Cheese parties in the ball pit laughing hysterically and scaring three year olds.  We were the mini-van carpool mates driving to soccer games who were singing ABBA at the top of lungs with the windows wide open, while our kids shrunk in their seats pretending they were being abducted.

Through the seasons of life our paths have moved in different directions and come back together, but now we are close buds again, sans children.  We go shopping together and talk too loudly and laugh too loudly and have fashion shows in the aisles.  We will go out to dinner with our husbands and the four of us will warn the waiter at the beginning of the evening that we will be the wild table that he wish he'd never been assigned to.  But we'll tip generously. 

Our most recent adventure was a duo mani-pedi at a local nail salon.  We had late appointments and were the only ones in the salon.  Needless to say, we closed the place down, and they weren't even selling drinks!  Though that is an excellent idea, note to self.  Anyway, the first chore in getting your nails done is to pick a nail polish color.  We giggled with delight at the 286 options on the wall and then both reached for the same fluorescent orange color at the same time.  No kidding!  So to compromise we found a second similar orange and proceeded to pretty much have matching nails.  We talked and laughed and had our manicurists laughing (and they know very little English).  She took a photo of her toes and texted it to her daughter.  When, at last, fifteen minutes past closing our nails were dry, our manicurists actually put our shoes on us so we wouldn't mess up our nails and thanked us for making them laugh.

Our next adventure?  Who knows?  But it will be fun, I can guarantee that!