Monday, December 17, 2007

Stef and The Lou

It really didn't sink in until today.

Awhile back, I received an instant message from Stef (my BFF who lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan) saying, "Don't freak out, but I'm interviewing for a job in STL."

Yeah, don't freak out. That's like asking my husband to not decorate for Christmas.

I did pretty well, though, I think, conducting (most of) my happy dances in private and trying to not lay the pressure on her. Although I did point out that living here has such benefits as watching my impossibly adorable daughter grow up and a having a nice spa discount at her disposal, among many others.

She had a phone interview, then a face-to-face interview (that lasted, apparently, about 26 hours and included a meal). At this time she was also looking at moving to Australia, which would have been utterly fine except when I'm feeling selfish and then I say, "Oh, hell no!" But I hid those weaker moments okay, and said, "I'll support whatever decision you make," which is the truth but some of the support would have been, admittedly, grudging. I'd have sent her Down Under, but with some tears.

Then it was coming down to the wire between the two jobs and she told me she was leaning towards The Lou, saying, "You can't take it to the bank, but you can pull up to the drive-thru." Okay, good. I inched up, put it in park and idled, and hoped beyond hope that my best friend would finally live close enough to me so as not to involve a 747 just to hang out at Starbucks.

Then I got the call. "Take it to the bank, baby, I'm coming home!"


Since then she's been incredibly busy, and I've been incredibly busy and we've talked a few times but not a whole lot. I haven't seen her but she sounds over the phone like she's positively glowing and I'm so freakin' happy for her I could spit.

And, yes, I'm happy for me because who doesn't want her best friend in the same freakin' city?

So things have been progressing along. She put in her two weeks up there and made plans to go through orientation and stuff here, and is jetting to and fro getting things set up and arranged. She's here now for orientation but is so solidly booked that I won't get to see her until sometime closer to (or even after) Christmas. Fine by that she's moving here I don't exactly need to battle her mom in the gladiator ring just to see her for a few minutes during holidays. That's an exaggeration, by the way, as her mother is a lovely woman who has never even set foot in a gladiator ring, much less worn a chain-mail skirt.

Today I was working away and my BlackBerry pinged. Literally. I have it set up to ping like a submarine when I get a new message (how cool is that?). "Ah," I said, "I have a new message!" I checked it to find Stef asking for my zip code. Uh. Okay. So I sent it back, along with the rest of my address for good measure, then asked why.

"Emergency contact backup" was the reply.

Ho. Ly. Shit. She's really, really moving here! And I'm her emergency contact backup!!! Mom, of course, bats in the 1 hole I'm sure. You know. Seniority.

But I'm the backup!!!!

There are two things that struck me with this:
  1. She's really, really, really moving home.
  2. She thinks I'm responsible enough to be an emergency contact.
There. I just did a happy dance all over again. Not very responsible, but so be it.


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