I got a phone call today. From Camille. After the initial pleasantries (what have you been up to the whole 2 1/2 days since I last saw you?), the real reason for her call became clear. Some of you may remember this post. Since then, I have doctored Camille’s Meat (heeheehee…makes me giggle, cuz it sounds dirty, but it’s not) a couple of different ways, but we still have it about once a week (it should also be mentioned that, until I packed her kitchen, she had it at her house that often, too). This is the transcript of the call:
Kamel: “I need to know how you make your Asian Beef with Noodles”.
Me: “It’s your recipe, but with Red Cock Sauce”.
Kamel: ” Yeah, but I can’t remember how to make my meat”.
Reeeeaaaallly. The girl can’t even remember her own meat. We quickly cleared it up though, and let’s be honest: All I really wanted was an excuse to use the phrases “Camille’s Meat” and “Red Cock Sauce” in the same conversation.
BTW, Kevin named the sauce, as if you couldn’t figure it out.
Imagine my surprise when something wet started falling from the sky. I have a distant memory of it, but I still couldn’t quite place it. Turns out, it was rain. Buckets and buckets of rain. Bear in mind, we haven’t seen rain in these here parts in MONTHS. Certainly not significant rain like today’s. I’m talking huge storms, hail, high winds, and RAIN. The last time it rained here was July 4th, and that only lasted about 30 minutes. Plus, even if it rains somewhere else in the Metroplex, it always seems to miss the Mound. Not today, though. I actually took pictures, because who knows when we’ll see it again. Boy howdy, it sure is nice to see some precipitation around here. The funny thing is that Kevin works 12 miles away, and he never saw a drop. Hmmm. More for me!
No, really. If anyone had told me that I would start doing what I’m doing, I would have laughed in their faces. There is absolutely no way that I would have believed it myself. I’m stronger than that. I’m smarter than that. But, alas, here it is, and I can’t seem to stop myself.
No, I’m not the meth-addict next door. I’m not the compuslive shopper. I’m not even the closet ABC Soap Opera addict (ok, maybe I am that one, but really, is that so bad?). Deep breath. Here goes: I started knitting. KNITTING for God’s sake. And Camille is to blame. She said, as she was packing up her house, “Hey. I have this knitting kit thing. Do you want it?” “Sure”, I said. “I’ll give it a try”. I believe that there is nothing we cannot learn on our own, and it seems that my theory is still holding. Now I’m one of them. A knitter.
Just so things don’t get too out of hand, I solemly swear to not post pictures of my projects on Flickr. I will not live and die by my yarn. I will not be one of those crazy knitting ladies with 45 pair of socks made by my own little hands.
So there you have it. I have become totally immersed in “working inside the home” (that one was just for you, baby). Between All My Children, One Life to Live, General Hospital, and God help me, knitting, I have suddenly leapt from age 31 to age 65. Send help, please.
If you’re lucky, you may have one or two real friends in your life. If the planets align and the gods smile down on you, these friends become your family. You absorb each other’s lives until you are no longer aware of where your life stops and theirs begins. In short, you become one unit.
Such is the case with the Coopahues. Three years ago (almost to the day), we were fortunate enough to have our lives tangle up, and it has been an amazing thing. Believe me when I tell you that these people changed my world. They became our neighbors, our best friends, our right-next-door support network. Forget needing a cup of sugar; we could rely on each other for emergency baby-sitting (or, sometimes, “breakin’ the law”), a shoulder to cry on, poker games, Scrabble, steak dinners…..you name it. After several vacations, I can honestly say that there are no other people on earth that I could spend 7 straight days with, come home, and still want to eat dinner with (which we’ve now done twice). We took San Antonio by storm, laughing almost the whole time. Next up, it was New Orleans, and it’s a minor miracle that the boys survived Bourbon Street. The best, though, were the trips to the islands. We have more memories from those two weeks than most people have to fill a lifetime.
So now, they’re moving. And yes, I’m sad. I’ve shed more than my share of tears over this, but here’s how I figure it: The four of us are standing at a fork in the road, and we just can’t take the same paths. Kevin and I are focusing on expanding our family, which means that we have to, you know, be grown-ups. Camille and Josh (and of course, The Boy) are following their dream and moving back to East Texas. We each face a tough road ahead, but even though I can honestly say that it’s like losing a limb, I know we will all be better people for our choices.
I have been so blessed in my life already. After I got married, I never thought I would ever meet anyone else who “got” me so completely. Then the Coopahues were born. Sure, we’ve maintained our autonomy, but on some days, it’s hard to tell where one of us ends and the others begin. We’re a unit.
So. Good luck, guys, and know that even though we’re not just through the gate, we’re only a party-line phone call away.
After all, it’s really just geography.