By all accounts, we shouldn’t be friends. On paper, it doesn’t make any sense. If you listed our attributes, and placed our likes, dislikes, beliefs, and disbeliefs side-by-side, you wouldn’t think we would even get along. She doesn’t drink. I love my wine. She firmly believes in a religion that I don’t understand. She is the most calm, levelheaded person I’ve ever met, whereas I’m prone to being totally spastic. And yet, we’re the best of friends. She was my savior that first year in Vegas. We bonded over sushi, nursing, and our Rons. She shared my love for the outdoors. We’re both obsessed with baking, chocolate, and Anthropologie. We kept in touch when she moved to Dallas. It’s her fault Newport Beach will be my next city of residence. It’s funny how unassumingly and easily people can enter into your life. It’s comforting to know that type of friendship exists.
She’s on a plane right now, somewhere over the Pacific, headed toward Brisbane. She’s the only friend who’s actually bothered to call since I moved out here, and yet we still have a lot of catching up to do. She’s newly pregnant and I need to meet her baby-to-be. We have a week’s worth of restaurants and hiking and beach bumming to squeeze in. We have to shop and gossip and explore. We have a full week of “girl time” – a rare treat that I will not take for granted. (And we’re doing it in Australia!!!) So, this week will be spent on the Sunshine Coast and Gold Coast, doing all of the tourist-y sites I won’t usually do on my own. I’m so excited that I can barely contain myself.
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