Which leads me to the Stalker and her recent visit.
The Stalker and I have known each other since I was sixteen-years-old. We started a business together, traveled the US promoting said business and opened a publishing house. It was hard work and we discovered how different we are in many respects.
She's a, "How are the wife and kids?" kind of boss.
I am a, "What! The project isn't finished? Get it done!"
In many ways she is a finer human being than I am. More devout, more compassionate, and more concerned that other people like her. She's a pleaser. Then sometimes she's an in-your-face, don't tell me what to do, ruler of all she beholds, kinda girl.
She has also been very, very, very ill for the past twenty or so years. She's had a rough road, yet she's so positive. The Stalker has a way of pushing through the pain to get a job done. I suppose that is part of the reason God has blessed her with eight children. Yes, eight.
The Stalker also talks NON-STOP. I think sometimes that she thinks silence is a bad thing and does her utmost best to make sure every second is filled with
Talk the ear right of an elephant, seriously.
My mother nicknamed her Bubbles, for obvious reasons and strangely enough, the name still fits. She is exactly like a carbonated soda, all shook up, and exploding right in front of you. There is just something about her that you either fall in love with, or you run screaming from the room.
I hope though, that you'd stay. Stay and sort through the analysis. Listen and root around until you find the heart of what she's saying. Often times it's worth it.
Over breakfast the other day she and I had a serious discussion. It's one of the best we've ever had and I'm glad we had a few moments alone to sort some things out. Sometimes she makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Really. Hard.
Other times, I am awed by her generosity and her tender heart. It's times like these that I wonder why she's my friend.
As the years have passed I've come to understand that it's okay to be different. It's okay to have friends who do not always agree with me. More often than not it's people like the Stalker, the Writer, the Singer, and the Giver who make me a better person simply because I know them.
So, Stalker? Thanks for the visit. Thanks for the honest, heartfelt words. Thanks for Godiva Cheesecake (oi, my waistline) and Gustav's. Thanks for cheap breakfast and losing your toothbrush (it's in the bathroom by the way), your hairbrush, your purse. Thanks for just being you in all your silliness.
Stalker, you rock babe.
God bless and God's speed.