Dinner With Friends

Do you have those few friends who you would do anything for, and who you know would do anything for you? Those friends that are always there and will always be there, no matter what? The same friends you may fight with, but you know your life wouldn't be nearly as interesting as it is without them? I know this sounds a little cliche, but I have those friends. Two of them are Kristy and Kelly. My friends have not only been there for me with personal and family problems, but I rely on them a lot with my writing as well. If I ever get stuck--which happens more times than I would like--or I don't think a certain scene sounds exactly right, or I ask their opinion on something, they are always there to offer their opinion. Whether I use it or not isn't the point. Talking to them helps me figure my problem out. Kristy and I have known each other since I was in tenth grade, and we became instant friends. Both major Tomboys at the time, we both felt like we could be exactly who we are around each other, which, really, is what friends are supposed to be for. We have become so close, we consider each other's families as our own, and I often refer to her family as my second family. Try explaining that to someone new. There is not enough space on the Internet to tell you about all of the adventures we had together. Kristy is one of those friends that, no matter what we end up doing together, whether it be going out to a movie or on a camping trip, it's always an adventure. It really does depend on the person you are with that makes or breaks your day. Expect many of my posts to have some kind of mention of her, especially if it involves us laughing for no apparent reason. One time, we were running some errands with my family, and we went into some store, (cannot remember the name, at all) and in the back was a tall square pile of square cushions, just sitting right there in the middle of the aisle. I have no idea why they were there, they just were. (The pile was a good three cushions taller than us, by the way.) Kristy and I, having gone off to explore the store on our own, were standing there, looking at it. And, like most times, came up with the same idea--which is always scary. We looked at each other, smiling broadly, and said, "I go on this side, you go on that side?" Okay! We stood a few feet from the pile on opposite sides, counted down from three, and then ran toward the pile of cushions. We ran into it at the same time, getting pushed back a little as the couple of cushions on the top popped straight up. My dad came around the corner, so we were like, "Dad, Dad. Watch this." We ran at it again, and when we bounced off of it, the cushions popping up again, my dad gave us a look, and just turned and walked away, not saying a word. Now, I would like to say this was when we were kids, but no. I think I was eighteen, and Kristy sixteen. But that's what Kristy and I have always done. We've made the most of every situation we've gotten ourselves into, having fun every second. A newer, more recent friend is Kelly. Her and her husband were actually friends with my brother first, and then I kind of stole her. One of the truly sweetest souls I have ever met, Kelly can always make me feel better. She cracks me up every time we hang out, last night not excluded. We hadn't hung out in a while, so we made plans to go out to dinner, just the two of us. We went to Olive Garden, in the mood for breadsticks, salad, and pasta. She ordered non-sweetened tea, and I ordered my usual Shirley Temple. It's like Spring in a cup. How can you not like that? I took a risk and ordered my pasta with a new cheesy tomato sauce. (I usually order the same thing when I eat out, afraid of not liking something new, and being a pain if I ask to send it back--making this story that much more funnier.) Of course, I did ask the waitress if I could possibly try a little of the sauce before I ordered since it sounded good on the menu. She was nice enough to let me, and brought out a tiny, tiny bowl with a spoon. Kelly and I both liked it, so I ordered that sauce. Kelly stuck with the spicy sauce she had had once before, with the new chicken meatballs they now serve, and asked for a refill of her unsweetened tea. When our food came, Kelly let me take a bite of her chicken meatballs, but there was some of the spicy sauce on it. Now, I do not like spicy food, unlike my dad who can't get enough of it. But, I can handle a little bit of it. However, when I ate the meat, my mouth exploded with fire and I took three big gulps of my Shirley Temple. Kelly immediately began teasing me, calling me a wimp and all that. Then she took a bite of her pasta. The look on her face was a mixture of utter surprise and a little pain. She said, "Wow. That is spicy." She reached for her tea, and after a big gulp, made a sour face. She was given their sweet tea, and she does not like sweet tea. So for the next minute, she tried to get the waitress's attention, but no luck. All the time, her mouth was getting hotter and hotter. She said, "Man, that's so spicy, I seriously can't eat another bite." I said, "And you were making fun of me!" She fanned her mouth, and then reached for her non-unsweetened tea. She stopped and said, "I can't drink that," fidgeting in her chair. She resorted to eating the rest of her breadstick, which was actually only a single bite. When the waitress finally came, Kelly felt bad, but explained it was much spicier than last time, and asked if she could get the cheesy tomato sauce I ordered, and pointed out the sweet tea mixup. The unsweetened tea came back first, which she then gulped halfway down, but when the pasta came back, it was not my cheesy sauce, but instead their garlic sauce. Kelly said, "I am not going to tell them. I'm just going to eat it." Now, I don't know what I would have done if I were in her position, but I knew what I would have done--and did. Laugh hysterically at my friend. Serves her right for calling me names.