Last night, I went to Ned's. He seemed to have packed a lot of living into his dwelling in the few days since I'd been there. A huge golf bag was in the living room, and some aloe vera gel was on the floor. And "Why is that ball in here?" I asked him.
"What ball?" he asked.
Anyway, I just got back from another ding-dang huge walk with the dogs, and now I must shower, as we are headed to Winston-Salem, for a change, because it's my friend Charlie's 30th birthday and he's having a partayyy. He invited us all on Facebook, and he wrote, "I'd send an invitation to each and every one of you by hand, but I'm paralyzed." I mean, you can't argue with that.
Ned hurt his back playing golf yesterday, and my plantar fasciitis will be acting up due to my long walk with these smelly creatures I call dogs, and I have work to do this weekend and I'd really rather just fool around and do dumb things.
Ned would rather sit around and listen to his old records with the turntable I got him, but even THAT isn't going so smoothly.
But my dumb smelly dog survived having an Easter Island head this week.
And despite our aches and pains and skips, Ned and I have found each other at this late stage in life, when we're practically dead and unable to see giant balls in the living room.
And I have a steady paycheck again.
And Charlie? Charlie slipped on a damn rock, and yes. He can't move. And it sucks. And he's pissed off. But he's here. He's here to make us laugh, and to still be cute as all getout, and to get the truth out of you even when you don't want to hear it.
There's something magical about Charlie. Something about his open face, and kind eyes, and total lack of judgyness makes everyone hold a mirror up to themselves, and, sadly for him, you end up telling him things you don't want to. Things you never even wanted to admit to yourself. It happens to him everywhere he goes, with total strangers and old friends.
So, yes. What happened to him blows. And he has yet to make sense of why this happened, and what it will mean for him in the years to come. But having Charlie on this planet is something we all should be glad about.
So we are gonna celebrate the shit out of his 30th birthday. Is what we're gonna do.
Then we might buy a toothbrush. I'm not sure.