So this week the husband and I went out to dinner with Lisa and her husband, Ali Hakim. Not really. I mean, yes. We went out to dinner. And yes, Lisa and her true love were our companions. But his name is only sometimes Ali Hakim. Whatever -- if you're not from Oklahoma you wouldn't understand.
But really, I just want to tell you how lucky I am that Lisa is in my life. She has been my best friend since I was thirteen. Think about that, my people. I don't know about you, but when I was thirteen I was a complete pain in the ass. I think it's part of being thirteen, but still -- I'm not sure why my parents didn't sell me to the gypsies. So I am eternally grateful that Lisa was willing to ride it out and stick with me, even though I was a) a giant mutant, freakishly tall; b) painfully shy and more comfortable with my nose in a book than engaged with actual people; c) new to the school and thus totally toxic in terms of coolness; d) did I mention freakish?
Lisa, on the other hand, was athletic and pretty, with curly, curly hair that she hated and I coveted, and a giant smile that said to the world: "I am here to have fun, so step aside!" She was always the one who said, "Let's go skating!" or "Meet me at the basketball game!" And whatever she told me we were doing, I did. I even managed the gymnastics team, so I could hang out with my bestie every day after school. It cracks me up that I "lettered" in gymnastics that year.
It's weird that we are even able to be friends, because we are biologically so different. She is up before dawn, ready to go for a run, or play a round of golf, or wrestle a bear. Meanwhile, I feel that a day spent lounging in bed is a day well-spent. And when I am ready to stay up all night watching Fred Astaire movies, or the fabulous "Ishtar," Lisa just kisses me on the head on her way to her bedroom.
On paper we should not be friends, but I thank God every day for her.