For a while after college we lived in the same place and shared so much of each other's lives, we would call each other from our respective offices in Harvard Square and talk about what we had for breakfast. We would meet at a local bar on Friday nights for happy hour and spill our deepest fears over free nachos and cheap beer. She got married, I was her maid of honor. She got a dog, I got a cat.

For many years, even after she moved across the country, and then to another country, we were religous about visiting each other and had regular phone dates. Our lives were still intertwined and we knew EVERYTHING. Our visits were peppered with long walks, accompanied by an easy, open flow of conversation. We never ran out of things to say. We always knew, and always said, that we would be friends for the rest of our lives.

Then time began to get the best of us, life became more complicated. It was harder to have regular phone dates and harder to visit one another, our lives became more and more different. We tried to understand and support each other through life's big and small moments, through depression and anxiety, through pregnancy and babies, jobs, graduate school, and finding unexpected love, but it became harder and harder to feel connected in the same way. We both yearned for the ease and the certainty of the friendship we had known, and were torn apart by the akwardness, the fear, and the disappointment that came with not knowing how to find the closeness we had shared.

A few months ago, she finally was brave enough to put it all on the table, to speak (or write) the words that were hanging between us like a dark cloud. Does this friendship even mean anything anymore? As painful as the question was, it made me think. About how maybe I hadn't shown how much it meant and mattered. That somehow the time and space between us had erroded my confidence in the unconditional respect and support and love we had shared. My life was so different, and parts of it so painful that I had lost sight of the fact that the root of our friendship had never been in commonalities but in differences. That we had helped eachother most when things were hard, when our perspectives were different, when we were able to push each other when neither wanted to be pushed.

So recently we have begun to build a tender new relationship. One that has as it's foundation the 20 years of history we have shared, but also has a genuine, if still bittersweet, understanding of the reality of our lives with all of the attending complications and constraints.

Today I learned that she had to make the very painful decision to put her 15 year old dog to sleep. And I felt her, right there in my heart. I remembered what it felt like to know someone so well that you don't have to know all the details, or hear the whole story, just a few words are enough that you feel what they feel as if it were your own. I felt the weight of history, of time passed and memories shared and moments lost.

This friendship matters. Always.

In loving memory of Guinness Stout, dog extraordinare.

This past weekend I got called upon at the last minute to facilitate a two day retreat for a group of 14 students (why is it that new jobs always come with new responsibilities???). Thankfully, my dearest B, in addition to being a fabulous newly minted nurse, is also a fabulous teambuilder, icebreaker, small group discussion activity facilitator, so I "hired" her to do this retreat with me. (Actually, hiring - as in paying - her was my boss's idea, I was just going to make her do it because she LOVES ME SO MUCH). Despite some rocky moments along the way it all came together in the end and I think it was a really good experience for the students. They all stayed up until 3 in the morning talking so I guess that is a sign that we acheived our goal of getting them to bond with each other (although it didn't do much for their energy level on sunday morning at 9 am!).

Then, today, I had an all day retreat with my co-workers.

So now, I'm done. I'm not building any more teams, breaking any more ice, or setting any more goals.

And that's that.

So much to catch up on, it will take some time, but the most important thing I need to say today is how proud I am of my amazing nurse. This past year was incredibly challenging, exilarating, exausting, sad and funny but she made it through with flying colors and today she gets to start doing exactly what she set out to do (well, actually today she gets to get her picture taken and sign up for health insurance, but you get the idea).

I couldn't do it, I know that for sure. I also know she will grace each patient with her tender, knowing, reassuring touch.

Today Miss B and I went to see my mom at Guide Dog School where she is training with her new guide dog Rhumba (her third dog, first girl dog). Some of you may remember from previous entries the her last dog Slater was sweet but not very effective (as in, he has on more than one occasion, guided her straight into a tree/mailbox/signpost) so we have all been very anxious for her to go and get a newer, safer dog*

What she got was a newer, softer, calmer, softer, sweeter - and did I mention softer? - dog. We had great time getting to know Rhumba and going to visit the kennels where they train the dogs, and wean the puppies...oh god the puppies...i didn't think I was going to get B to leave (she is now seriously considering a career as the School Nurse at Guide Dog School). We also had a great time busting my mom loose for a trip to Cold Stone Creamery. Mmmmmmm....soft creamy fudgy ice cream....

There was just so much canine cuteness, it has to be shared so here are the pics (click to see bigger, if you don't already know that):

The Beautiful Pooch

Me, welcoming her to the family

B, smoochin the pooch

Cuteness times twelve

The puppies, just waiting to grow up to be great big helper dogs, melt my heart!

*wondering what happens to Slater? He gets to retire. Play a little golf, take a cruise, maybe some cooking classes. No really, he gets to be just a regular dog and my Dad's new best friend.

Although she didn't "tag" me I got this from the lovely post-hip chick. You are supposed to pick five sentence starters and then pick three people to pass it on to. So here goes...

if I could be a scientist...If I could be a farmer...If I could be a musician...If I could be a doctor...If I could be a painter...If I could be a gardener...If I could be a missionary...If I could be a chef...If I could be an architect...If I could be a linguist...If I could be a psychologist...If I could be a librarian...If I could be an athlete...If I could be a lawyer...If I could be an inn-keeper...If I could be a professor...If I could be a writer...If I could be a llama-rider...If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be an astronaut...If I could be a world famous blogger...If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...If I could be married to any current famous political figure...

1) If I could be a professor... I would try so hard to really understand my students, how each of them learns and what each of them brings to the table. I would encourage them to ask questions, to share what really excites them about the work they are doing, and to not be afraid to tell me when they just don't get what's going on. I would try to make sure they understood that what I want most is for them to learn something, not just to get a good grade or score the highest score on the test. I would try to teach them that in 5, 10, or 20 years no one, especially them, will care what their gpa was or what honors they got. Instead they will care that they have someone, some people, and some things (work, books, music, pets, whatever..) in their life that they love.

2) If I could be a doctor....I would choose to be a nurse instead. I have a lot of amazing nurses in my life (my sweetie - and all her wonderful nursey friends, my sister, my aunt Betsy) and I have to say that I think they do the most important work of all. I can't articulate it the same way Miss B can, but suffice it to say that they are right there, in the thick of it, really caring for the most fundamental needs of the patients. Plus they are smart as beans, and work their asses off. So there.

3) If I could be a chef....I would invite my friends over for magical dinner parties like our friends Kim and Pam have. Every time we go to their house, its like this amazing dreamy perfect experience. The food is wonderful, the table is exquisite and the conversation is warm and funny and busting with love. That's not just about the food, I know, but being able to creat the dinner is a step in the right direction!

4) If I could be a gardener....I would grow gobs and gobs of heirloom tomatoes. I have this thing about tomatoes, I can't eat them unless they are fresh, and I don't mean "hot-house" fresh. I mean, just walked out into the back yard and picked this off the vine fresh. When we lived in Boston I had a little garden and I loved puttering around out there, grabbing a bowl full of cherry tomatoes and eating them on the way back into the house. If I had a garden full of tomatoes, I would invite everyone over for a huge plate of beautiful multi colored heirlooms, fresh mozerella, and basil, all sprinkled with salt and pepper and drizzled with olive oil. We would eat them with our fingers. juices dripping down our chins.

5) If I could be an architect....It would make my dad the happiest person on the planet, because he lives and breathes architecture and he's never understood why we didn't all want to follow in his footsteps. Sorry Daddy-O...I love being in beautiful places with beautiful buildings, but I will leave the creation of said beautiful buildings to you.

Ok...so I would like to see what Jessica, (because I know she has nothing else, like planning huge wedding, to do), and Stacey, (because she has nothing else, like classes and papers, to do), and Miss B, (because I know she has nothing else, like spending every day in clinical rotation on the locked psych unit, to do), have to say about this one. (That last one is a pipe dream since she hasn't written on her spam infested blog in months but what the heck... no harm in trying).

Even though we had a very nice weekend - which included an actual dinner and movie date on Friday night, as well as a SF adventure on Saturday and yummy Korean foods on Sunday - I think there is real danger of my head exploding in the near future.

Hint: Here's where you stop reading if you don't want to listen to some serious crankypantitis

For starters there is the fact that we have to move some time between now and July 1 because Miss B's big new job (which is amazing and wonderful and I'm so PROUD of her) means no more student housing. We have outgrown our treehouse apartment and can't wait to get into a bigger, nicer, non-motel-like place but the process of apartment hunting and moving is never easy. Especially if you just moved across the country, like, yesterday!

Then there is the fact that there is all kinds of wacked out business going on at my job right now. Its one of those times when there is big change coming but only certain people are supposed to know, so there is this really weird vibe because everyone is trying to figure out what's going on and whether or not it affects them, which leads to a general sense of paranoia and ill will. I happen to know what's on the horizon, but i'm not supposed to know which makes it weird to be in the middle of all the speculation. There's a chance, by the way, that this change will be very posititve for me but thats all pie in the sky until things actually change so I don't know what the hell to think, or say, or do.

And...my poor poor girl is so tired and burned out and just wants to be done with school even though she totally totally loves it, and I wish I could make it all better but I know that basically we just need to get through the next 6-7 weeks without losing our minds. I guess the one good thing is that her last rotation is at the psych hospital so if we need to check ourselves in it will be very convenient (and would solve our housing problem. hmmmmm....)

You all will come visit us in our padded cell right? Or at least send cards and letters....

Mom: Slater got skunked (Slater is her guide dog, sweet as pie and dumb as a post, but that's a story for another time)
Me: oh no!
Mom: We have him on his tie-down out on the porch so he doesn't stink up the house.
Me: Did you give him a bath in tomato juice?
Mom: No we didn't have any... but we did give him a bath in diced tomatoes.

crazy people. that's what they are.

oh, and by the way, I know I haven't written in almost a month but lets just let that slide for now, k?

p.s. i'm missin' the home-corned beef too!!!

And then followed with some very passionate and articulate thoughts about drilling for oil in the artic, SUV's and the environment, the World Bank, the deficit, the war, and social security, culminating in these exact words: "I CANT STAND IT."

I couldn't agree more, and couldn't love her more for her intellect, her passion for all things policy related, and most especially her ability to express her opinons so smartly. But I also didn't ask if I could reproduce her excellent rant verbatim so you got the executive summary.

But...because she's an Irish lass through and through, I can't resist sharing this little bit of the email:

On a brighter note, I'm dressed in head to toe in green, John got up early to get the cornbeef and cabbage started, I'm going to Anna's class today to do St. Patrick's crafts, Sara Maeve looks adorable in her little green sweater with a hood and she got into the craft bag and ate some green construction paper in honor of the day!

Whether you celebrate with green beer, green bagels or green paper...Happy St. Patty's Day everyone!!!

I was late to work today because I just couldn't drag myself away from reading my People magazine, over cereal and tea, on the balcony of our little tree house apartment. I'm wearing capri pants with slidy-ony shoes [that's a technical shoe term in case you aren't familiar :)], and I'm sippin' on a big fat iced latte.

Magazines, capri pants, iced coffee, abundant sunshine. Today, life is good.

P.S. Deepest apologies to those of you living on the east coast for this indulgence in California Love.

To me there is just something about the Aunts and the role they play in our lives that is very special. They can be your ally, your mom, your teacher, your cheerleader, your advisor, your santa claus, your sister, your friend. They can make you feel like a special little kid when you need it the most and treat you like a grown up when no one else has. They can agree with you that your parents are crazy, and they can tell you your parents are right when you won't hear it from anyone else.

I'm a "real" aunt to Nicholas, Kenneth and Isabel, and through the magic of friendship an honorary aunt to Anna and Sara Maeve. Together Miss B and I have the very special honor of being "The Aunties" to Adam [since he was a tiny tiny newborn :)] and now to his little brother Jonathan.

Whether the connection is biological or not doesn't really matter, my love for all these little people runs deep. I only hope that I can honor the legacy of all the amazing aunts I have known (my own and others) by bringing even a fraction of their magic and love to the lives of all these kids.

So here's to Aunt Beth and Aunt Sally and to Aunt Betsy and Auntie Mary, Auntie Ellie and Auntie Laurie and any one that any of you want to add to the list...

Thank you. We love you. You Rock.

And for me, writing on my blog is like going to the gym. When you aren't doing it, it's really easy to keep not doing it. But then once you get there you realize "hey, this feels pretty good, I should do this all the time." So thanks, EPF, for motivating me to get back in here.

Now can you come get me to the gym?

"Presents Day?" she said, "when did they invent Presents day??"

She has a bad cold. And in our house, when you have a cold you have a hot toddy.

And she can't, of course, make a hot toddy with just ANY scotch.

I mean really!

The airport, where the parking and the gate were at the very opposite ends. The principal's office for a tardy slip for the child, picked up at the opposite end of the airport, to get into school. The grocery store for a turkey lunchables and bbq potato chips, to be delivered on a second trip to the school of the child, picked up at the opposite end of the airport...who didn't have any lunch.

Then...the liquor store in search of 18 year old french scotch, not really believing that there is such a thing as french scotch. My parent's house, to deliver to my mother, who is certain that there is such a thing as french scotch, the news that if french scotch does exist, they don't carry it around here. The deli, to obtain sandwiches for my mother, who claims that there is such a thing as french scotch, even though it is not sold in stores, and my father, who has decided that a one month recovery from pneumonia means one month lying in exactly the same spot on the couch...because they, too, didn't have any lunch.

And the best part of all? I never got any lunch.

I did, however, get to get in someone else's car and drive to Starbucks for a Chai and a snikerdoodle.

Which kind of made it all ok.