I can't even go 5 business days without yielding to the demands of my eager public for "NEW POSTS!"
And since the eager public's birthday just happens to be today, I must oblige.
My husband is always coming up with genius ideas. Why, just last night, he devised a solution by which we could remove our rather large sofa from our living room to his office. I would have sworn this task was impossible, since I had measured all the means of egress from our house and concluded that none of them were large enough to move said sofa through. But then again, we got it in the house, why wouldn't we be able to get it out again? He had no doubts, though and he was right. We were able to get it out with minimal effort.
As an added bonus, we now have no sofa and no easy chair in our living room. (It was another one of his genius ideas to put the easy chair out the last time we had a garage sale, just to see if anyone would buy it. Someone did.) If you've ever been in our living room, you will now realize that, as of this moment, we have gotten rid of all our furniture and now have nowhere to sit (except the massage chair, but that doesn't really count since contrary to what you might think based on its name, the massage chair is not very comfortable to sit in.). On the plus side, it's super-easy to vacuum the room now. On the super-plus size, I mean side, now we have no choice but to buy new living room furniture. Yay! See what I mean? He's an out of the box thinker.
I am generally skeptical of Brett's genius ideas at first, because I'm not wired to think in the genius way, like he is. Also, they almost always involve me going out of my comfort zone. Like getting rid of all our furniture when we have company coming over on Thursday. Like that whole, "Let's get scuba-certified while we are in Mexico!" thing, or the "Let's go down the natural waterslides!" thing, or that ever-annoying "Why don't you bear your testimony today?" thing. But I have to admit (since he's unlikely to read this), my predictions of doom rarely come true and his ideas are generally solid.
It was a few years ago when Brett had one of his genius ideas. We were sitting in the car, engine running, getting ready to go home from the weekly Fox Family Dinner, when he said thoughtfully, "I think it would be really great if you were friends with my sister."
"What do you mean? I am friends with your sister. Well, I mean, you know, I like Shauna. She's your sister. What's not to like?"
"I know. But you guys aren't really friends. Why don't you invite her to dinner or something?"
Crap. He was serious about this whole make-friends-with-my-sister-thing. It was definitely out of my comfort zone to approach someone and say, "So, uh, let's be friends, okay." There's a vague, nebulous, but very real fear associated with this kind of endeavor. Is it the fear of rejection? Is it the fear of just looking like a dork? Is it the fear of attempting to make a new friend and flat-out failing? I don't know, but it sure put me in my stress zone. I tried to blow him off.
"Sure, yeah. I'll catch up with her sometime and see if she wants to hang out," I replied non-committally.
"Great! I'm so proud of you!" He smiled and then sat there, looking at me expectantly.
"Go ask her."
"Yeah, why not? You know she's there. I know you won't call her because you hate to talk on the phone. Go back in and see if she wants to have dinner with you this week. Tell her Tuesday, 'cause I'll be at scouts." He continued to smile angelically. "You promised, remember?"
I hadn't technically promised and I could have debated that fact with him, but it wouldn't have done any good. I sighed, steeled my nerves, and trudged back up the driveway.
Shauna was just coming down the stairs and I almost ran into her in the doorway.
"Hey, I thought you guys had left already. Did you forget something?"
"Uh, no. I, uhhhh...ahem... well, see, I was, uhhhh wondering... if you... uhhhh..." Sweat started to bead on my forehead. My body felt like someone was holding a blowtorch to my back. "Iwaswonderingifyouhadtimethisweek... ifmaybeyouwantedtogoouttodinnerorsomething."
It took a moment for Shauna to parse what I had just said into actual words. "Uh, sure. That sounds great."
"Okay." I had to take a deep breath because I was feeling lightheaded. "HowaboutTuesday? Justcomeonoverafterworkandwe'lldecidewheretogo."
Another pause. "Okay. Tuesday is good for me. I'll come over around 7:00."
I know Shauna thought I was a blithering idiot. Or maybe she was so taken off-guard that she didn't notice my perspiration-soaked armpits and my fight-or-flight breathing. I'm just glad she said yes.
Lemme tell you why I'm glad. Shauna is really is the coolest chick ever. Actually, she's the Coolest Chick Ever. It's a proper name and a proper name for her.
She's funny. She's smart. She's cute. She's generous. She's loyal. She's fashionable. She can sing. Boy, can she sing!
Trying to describe all the great things about Shauna is like trying to tell someone about a dream you had last night: words do not do it justice. She's subtle and layered and full of little nuances. We used to work out together and then go out to Coldstone for ice cream. She teaches her mom how to tell "your mom" jokes. She sings karaoke with me in the garage. She eloped with Coolest Husband Ever. She made the best dang churizo and waffles for us when we visited last December. She drove all the way home from work the morning we left, just to wish me happy birthday. (Well, that and to pick up the super-important papers she'd left on the piano, but I like to think I was the real reason she came home.) She sent me a pizza all the way from Utah, because I had subliminally messaged her to do so. She sat with me all day in the cafeteria at Park City because, honestly, who wants to get all wet and snowy on a ski trip. She bought me a platypus flute (coolest gift ever). That's how awesome she is. And I'm not just saying that because it's her birthday. I'm saying it because it's true.
Brett really hit it on the head with this genius idea. He was right. His sister and I really should be friends. And I'm glad we are.