So the Hubs and I are always looking for friends. Because we are lame and spend a lot of nights on the couch watching quality television like American Idol and Glee. We've been hermits throughout my pregnancy and this newborn baby stage, and we've been cooped up inside a lot. The problem is, a lot of our favorite shows end next week. Devastating. And whatarewegonnadonowthatthereisnogoodtvtowatch? So about this time every year, when we come out of hibernation, we start scrounging for friends.
Just kidding.
Not really.
This year we decided we've gotta get out of the house. And we should probably try to spend some time with some other people before we go all "eating our own mate and our young" on each other. So we're planning to have a cookout every Friday night throughout the summer. We're calling it Friday Night Fiestas because we are weirdos and I'm an aspiring elementary school teacher who cannot resist lame names that sound like they came from a Dora the Explorer episode. We invited several families/couples we know who we thought might like to get out in the great outdoors for some fun and fellowship. We assume not everyone is as friendless as us and will not be able to make it every Friday, because most people our age have more pressing engagements than playing with lawn darts on a Friday night, but we figured worst case, it would be the Hubs, Newbie and me at a park each Friday eating hamburgers on the grill and trying to play frisbee golf. Which reminds me, I need to buy some frisbees. And lawn darts.
It's the perfect plan. No more TV. Now we can sound sophisticated when people ask us if we have plans for the summer: "Why, yes, in fact, we are scheduled to get together with some friends to grill some wieners and play catch at six on Friday. And the next Friday. And the next." Instead of our usual, "Well, we don't have much going on. But we sure do miss the TGIF television line-up that was Friday nights in middle school." It should be a good time.
So I was chatting with my bestie L on Facebook about the Friday Night Fiesta. Facebook is where we chat when we are at home with the children and want to pretend like we aren't being slacker parents by chatting discreetly on Facebook instead of blatantly on the cell phone. We talked about Friday night, and her trip to Hawaii next week, and my hives, and what her daughter named her pet fish. Then, at the end of the conversation, after confirming she was attending the fiesta, she said the following:
"I'll scratch you Friday night."
Folks, you can't find a better friend than that. That is the real deal. And that is why I love her. Only a true friend would offer to scratch you at a Friday Night Fiesta after hearing of your miserable hive/killer rash/nasty plague-like condition. Not even the Hubs went to that length of commitment. Don't get me wrong, I love the Hubs, and he always goes above and beyond for me, but the hives have pushed him over the edge. In fact, last night, he was rubbing my arms when he slowly pulled away. He had a whacked out look on his face that he tried to hide before I saw. Except I did see. And I asked him, "What the heck? Is something wrong with me?" To which he said the following:
"Well, Honey, it's just that your arms are all bumpy."
Yes. Yes, they are. Where have you been for the past month? I am a walking freak show of hives. But ya know what, that's OK, Honey. Because I've got friends in low places. Friends that are willing to "scratch me Friday night." That really looks weird when I read it. But that's what best friends are for: weird. When the going gets tough, the friends get weird. And they don't back down on account of a walking freak show. They stick with you through the crazy. The Hubs will come around. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to Friday Night. If not for the fiesta and lawn darts, certainly for the scratching.
*If you're a young whipper snapper with a significant other, or kid, or pet, or all three, looking for something to do on Friday nights throughout the summer and I somehow missed you on the Friday Night Fiesta Facebook page (which is entirely possible because I am functioning on only half a brain these days and the other half is itchy), shoot me a comment, and I'll send you the info on the time and place. You know you want to get in on some lawn darts. =)
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