The Show

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I have a best friend. She is a showstopper. She enters the room and the scene changes. Curtains rise. The orchestra is cued.

Lauren is here.

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I never minded that she always stole the show. She wouldn't steal the spotlight on purpose, but she doesn't shirk it either.

We met when we were fourteen, and I can't describe our unlikely pairing. Perfect foils. Australian amazon teeniebopper meets American munchkin goodie two shoes. She charged into every romantic scene, black bra and Doc Martens. I held back like a stagehand, overalls and sneakers.

But she was next to me in every green room, dragging me to every cast party, sharing her light, ravishing everyone with her love.

Sometimes she dated guys who would try to outstage her. Who didn't understand her theatrics.

It always ended with a poor review.

So when I heard she had met Peter, with whom she found life to be so "peaceful," I sensed that this was a show with promise of a long run.

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for-lauren-1021 I was absolutely desperate to be in the audience for their big day, but tickets for me were simply an impossibility.

But she sent me the Playbill, and after scanning it several dozen times, I am confident it was a beautiful expression of love, more than symbolic rendering of their union, an experience that transcended this world.

My best friend's wedding. I know that God was in the audience - they say He clapped the loudest.

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Pizza, Pomp and Circumstance

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The Crimson Mafia did indeed let me exit stage left with a diploma, sparing my life but not my bank account. Right now I'm still shaking the crimson dust off my feet having had a great experience but no desire to attend school as a student for a very long time. The festivities in the yard were very festivey and while I am not impressed with pomp and circumstance and graduation speeches that must, by some law of cliched graduation speeches, use the words "horizon," "triumph," and "in spite of the global recession," I have to say that the fanning out of masses to the tune of the bagpipes did impress me. My heart was stirred, and I felt proud to be there, but mostly I felt blessed...oh what? I'm sounding like a cliched grad speech too, now! Hey HEY!

Big Pops came in from the Mid-West to support me, but mostly to read The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Baby Girl. And then after a few minutes she'd waddle over again to his lap and point to the word SUCKER on his forehead and make him read it again. Did you know that the very hungry caterpillar turns into a beautiful butterfly every.single.time?

We also ate ridiculous amounts of pizza, watched a ridiculous number of episodes of "Everybody Hates Chris" which is one of the best funny family shows evah, and talked a ridiculous deal of bulllloney during the days that Big Pops was here. It is nice to have your parents be proud of you, whether you're earning a degree in a field with no lucrative future, or teaching your own kid about caterpillars and chrysalis.

I suppose I should once again be distributing my resume for various adjunctries (Is that the plural of adjunct? It is now!) but sabbath begins in just over an hour and just about every fiber of my petite self is needing to rest on the seventh day. Maybe by doing so, by languishing a bit longer in this cocoon, I will be ready to emerge as the proverbial butterfly in the weeks to come.

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Notice my baton. I can haz baton because am best baton twirler Crimson Mafia ever did see.

Ten Things I Will Do When After I Turn in My Thesis

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10. Paint my hallway. The whiteness of the walls has gone from whispering at me to full-on screaming a la Charlotte Perkins Gilman at me. Lovey Loverpants wants a purpley gray. I want a buttery yellow. At this point, I don't care if Baby Girl goes all graffiti on them. Anything but white! 9. Hit the gym at least 3x/week. Thesis booty is a creepin', soon to be cascading if I don't make the gym my party place.

8. Send my Nana a new picture of the baby. My dad told me it's the only thing that brings her happiness. I feel terrible for delaying this happiness!!

7. Go to bed by 11p at the latest. My recent bedtimes have been OBSCENE. They should be rated something ominous to keep small children from learning about them.

6. Deep clean our bedroom. Moving the pile of dirty clothes to the hamper? Does not constitute deep cleaning

5. Finish reading the 3 books for pleasure I started before my thesis unhinged its proverbial jaw and swallowed my life anaconda-style whole.

4. Take some new books out of the 'bary for Baby Girl. I've been hesitating because I'm so bad about returning them. No 'scuses no mo.

3. Take Baby Girl to the aquarium. Need to go to library to get free passes. Again, no excuses!

2. Eat more salads. Which requires my fridge to contain more than one vegetable at a time.

1. Give this girl a tissue, a change of shirt, and buy this girl some pants:

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