A few of my favorite things

Ha! I hate rain. Cold. Valentine's Day. Feeling piss-poor. Winter sports. Gloomy days. Staying inside. High heating bills. Wearing heavy coats, gloves and scarves and still freezing my ass off. February. At the end of a crappy week in a crappy month, I pretty much hate everything.

I've been hating everything for a while now, but not so much as before. One crappy day, sister Liz called, and we talked about everything and nothing, commiserated with and encouraged each other. It wasn't a long call, but when I hung up, I felt almost as if the damn coward sun had come out of hiding.

It's amazing what a few words in a friendly voice can do for your spirits. (Watch out: I'm about to get sentimental here, and I try very hard to never get sentimental.) It can mean the difference between feeling so blue the sky is jealous, and finding value in your day again, even if it is gray, cold and gloomy.

I've had some "friends" who turned out to be liars, fakes and frauds and still stand as monuments to my enormous lapse in judgment at the time I determined them to be worthwhile human beings. But then I've had some FRIENDS -- true blue, always sympathetic, willing to go kick ass and take names on your behalf. The kind whose voices make you smile even if you don't want to. The kind who always spring to mind when you feel needy or vulnerable or picked-upon. The kind who are ALWAYS on your side, even though they do, when needed, stop you from doing something totally insane even while agreeing with you that it's totally deserved.

I had two good friends before we moved back to Oklahoma. I had just found out that another friend was one of those fakes mentioned above, and I was feeling terribly betrayed. Good friend #1 -- psychology major in college -- would listen to me vent, but then she would look for reasons to explain the woman's behavior. Good friend #2 would listen to me vent, then say, "We hate her. Let's kick her ass."

At some point, I might have been willing to consider why the woman did the things she did, but when the hurt was still fresh, I needed #2's response. No bullshit-we don't care why she did it-we hate her and we'll hurt her.

#2 was from Texas. The best, most understanding, loyal and wonderful friends I've ever had all come from Oklahoma, Texas and Wyoming. Wonder if it's something about that frontier/cowboy/oil territory thing that turns out better friends?

"Being pissed off is better than being pissed on."
--- Saffire, Uppity Blues Women Rachel10:50 AM