I have been a little MIA lately, missed me? Probably not, but if you did you can blame my best friend K. (somehow this is getting posted late, blame google) Currently I am on a big jet plane flying back to the Bay Area from LA where I married off my best friend of 21 years.
The entire journey started when we were two years old as our mothers enrolled two hopelessly ungirly toddlers in dance class. The next 5 years were spent with several very exasperated dance teachers; trying to keep me from picking up girls and carrying them out of the way when they were in MY spot, and keeping K from running backstage to hide behind her mom.
From duckies to Dolly Parton we danced our way into a 20+ year friendship. Though by the time we were in our teens we had traded ballet for boots our friendship never died. We spent most of our time in the arena or the stock barns, but every once in a while you could find us out on K’s family boat as her Dad tried to dump us into the water.
Barns girls at heart we started our small careers in 4-H, thats where the love story came in. As little ones running around after our “big sisters” at the fairgrounds she ran into a boy; like most kids in middle school our posse expanded to include a few other girls and “the guys.”
Most of our time was spent getting thrown in manure piles, sprayed with water, and otherwise picked on by the boys. From A circuit hunters to the 4-H livestock ring K and I stuck together. Friends came and went, but it seemed like he always stuck around. One event that popped backup 7 years later was our high school homecoming. My best friend had a date bail at the last minute, sure enough he was there to save the day, we traded our boots for ball gowns for a night.
Little did they know a photo of those two would appear 7 years later at the foot of the altar as the “just friends” became man and wife. I’m not one to say I told you so (read this as I rub it in when I absolutely know I’m right) but I do remember what I told her 10 years ago as the boys were pushing us into dumpsters. “You’re either going to marry that boy or kill him.”
Well there’s still time for the second one.