August will mark my fifth year in Texas. When I packed up Pewter Bell and headed South from Chicago I was convinced I would never call Texas home. An unforeseen marriage and two great kids later I am a transplant still trying to be convinced that “y’all” is a word.
A surprise friendship began late last Fall on a public message board that I am miserably drawn to. I am not sure who sent the first private message, but I do remember that the subject quickly turned to boobs. No not in a A/S/L way but in a “Hey – my milk supply is dwindling, do you have any advice” kind of way.
These PM’s went back a forth for a few months until I invited this stranger on an afternoon walk. To make a very long story short we met, and my first impression was “Yea, she’s tall!” This would definitely make for a compatible walking partner. Our conversations ranged from how I became a granola head to her college days. Before I knew it I was really looking forward to our afternoon walks.
A few months have gone by and now I laugh because I cannot go a day without talking to my friend without having withdraws. She is by far the funniest person I have met, has a Southern accent, is trying to teach this Yankee to be a Belle, but she will never convince me that “y’all” is a word.
Thanks for being my friend Daiz, and here’s a new blog!
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