Growing up as a Navy brat, I didn't really have a place that I could call my hometown. For residence purposes when we lived overseas, it was my Gramma's house in Iowa. Even though I spent many summers there, and I loved it (for the most part), I never called it "home". For years, when people asked where I'm from, I'd say "I'm from all over." When I moved to Madison, Wisconsin, it still didn't have that "hometown" feel to it. Perhaps it was the idiot boy I moved there for (from Arizona I might add. 90 degrees when I left AZ, blizzard and 24 degrees when I landed at O'Hare. Yeah. I digress.)
When I moved in with the parents (a mere 2 months after moving halfway across the country) I knew it would be rough. I had been parent free for two years. I was desperate though and really didn't know what I wanted to do except find a place to wallow in self pity and not pay rent. They pulled through in the clutch. For about a month. Then it was "we love you but you need to get a job and perhaps, a life."
I started working at a retail store near our house and loved it. I'm a weirdo in that sense. I loved working retail. I came home in tears sometimes with how customers would talk to me or even the managers sometimes but on the whole, I loved my job. I met a lot of fun, crazy people there that I clicked with. One of my dearest friends is amongst that brood. I call La Crosse my hometown now and she's one of the reasons why.
I consider myself so lucky to have met G. She is such an amazing woman and mother to one of the best kids evah. She's quiet and shy (unless she really knows you). I'm loud and obnoxious. She's the one who got me to learn how to type the correct way by whiting out the keys on her keyboard. I had no choice but to figure it out. Ask her why she did it and she'll say she was bored. I remember the night her son was born. I tell him all the time about that night. How there was a snowstorm blazing outside. I called my boss to tell him I was going to be late because hello?? G was having her baby. I had an itchy eye and it wasn't until 3 hours later, while I was at work, that I realized it was a torn contact lens. Z had the darkest head of hair I'd ever seen on a baby. He was so happy all the time. I loved spending time with them.
When I moved to the other side of Wisconsin for another boy (I never learn), I missed G and her son so much that it hurt. When she called me after a stupid boy broke her heart, it killed me to be so far away. When my stupid boy and I broke up, I moved in with G, her son, her mom and G's brother. I miss those days. No, really, I do.
There's really no better friend to have than G. She's always there for me when I need it, even when I've been a bad friend (not calling or writing regularly). I thought that when we moved here that we would go down to see her more often since it was a straight shot but no, I get there maybe 3 times a year. That's just silly. She's three hours away. Hmph.
Well, I'm going to see her at the end of the month. It's going to be Mine and the Captain's 6 year anniversary and holy shit! SIX YEARS??? Whaaaa?? G's gonna make me look purty with a new haircut, maybe some highlights. The Peanut will be having a sleepover at her cousin's house. The boy will be here at home with Gramma and Grampa. We're staying in a suite. The only hotel room left in all of La Crosse County due to a 50th Anniversary event for some bike thingiemabob something or other and the baseball tourney that almost wrecked last year's trip to the La X. I'm getting some new ink whilst I'm there. I'm so excited. Excited to have a weekend with my husband. Excited to see G and her son and her mom and her brother. Oh hell, all of her family that's there. Can you tell I'm excited?? Cause I am.
The point of this post? G rocks and I can't wait to see her. The end.