Friends are the Family We Choose: My Friend Chris

“Today our model is wearing a charming ensemble featuring corduroy overalls. Look how effortlessly she completes the outfit with a lovely white turtleneck! She ties it all together with a pair of casual sneakers. Ooohh la la!”

            I was 5 years old, and this was my go-to game when my mom’s friend Chris came around. I’d make a grand entrance in whatever outfit my mom had put me in that morning, and Chris would describe my little-kid ensemble as though I had stepped onto a catwalk.

           

            When I was a kid, I thought Chris was one of greatest people in the world. I still do.

            Chris and my mom grew up as best friends and neighbors, but to me, Chris has always been family. Birthdays were always more special when she was around. Even being dragged to the grocery store with my mom became fun and exciting if Chris was coming too. I horned in on as many of their outings as I could, and Chris always made me feel like I was just one of the ladies.  

            Chris showed up when times were tough, too. When I was 15, my grandfather died unexpectedly. His death didn’t really hit me until I got to his funeral, and suddenly, I started crying and couldn’t stop. I stood there, helpless and panicking, while sobs took over my body.

            Suddenly, Chris was there. She whisked me into another room, pulled a Kleenex out of her purse for me, and distracted me. I don’t remember what she said, but it was the right thing. Soon, I was smiling, and even laughing. Chris had rescued me. To this day, she is always the first to step up when my family or I need it.

             Over the years, Chris was always there with a funny joke and a big heart. And she always came up with fun things to do. She, my mom, and I went to Atlantic City, a mountain resort, and even just to the DMV — because even the worst errands were fun when we were together.

            I’m in my 30s now, but Chris still tells me “You’re JUST A KID” every time she tries to pay my way when we do something fun. Now, we fight over who gets to treat. But I wasn’t prepared for what she did two years ago.

            I was planning my wedding on a tight budget. I decided try on gowns at a bridal shop, find my favorite dress, and search for something similar — but thousands of dollars cheaper — on eBay. Since the bridal shop was right in Chris’s neighborhood, my mom and I invited her to join us for lunch.

            Chris came to the bridal shop with us.  As the clerk buttoned me in to my favorite gown — the one I loved the moment I walked in — my heart simultaneously soared and sank. This dress was absolutely perfect. I had come so close, but so far, to finding a dress as beautiful as I'd dreamed of.

            That’s when Chris revealed her secret plan. She’d come to pay for my wedding gown: one of the most special parts of our big day. I couldn’t believe it. Just like that, my dream dress was mine. 

 

            Chris has taught me several things.

·      The time is always right to play a little prank on someone.

·      If you get bored, you can always play a game to entertain yourself and your friends, like, “Which of these weird things would you eat if you had to or else someone was going to shoot you?”

·      It’s usually best to be nice. Except for when it’s not.

·      Always spoil the people you love.

            Some people come from big families with lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins. I come from a tiny family, but I got the best deal. I got Chris.

I love you!

I Really Wanna Be Your Best Friend: My Rebel Girl

Rebel girl, rebel girl,
Rebel girl you are the queen of my world.

 ... 

I was 16 years old and I lived in a boring suburb. It was boring, and my boyfriend was boring, and *I* was boring. But with no Internet and no drivers license, I didn't know where to find anything that wasn't just as boring as my own boring life.

Then Madge came to town.

Madge!

Madge held her head high. She wore glitter on her eyes. She laughed louder than anyone I'd ever met. She could write, she could play guitar, she was sure of herself, and she said and wore whatever she wanted. She was brash but tender. Sarcastic yet sweet. She wasn't like anyone else.

Madge was exciting, and I loved her, instantly.

To my shy amazement, Madge loved me back. She immediately became the big sister and best friend I'd always dreamed of.

I still remember the first time she ever called me. I was sitting on my parents' living room floor, petting our dog. The phone rang -- we had house phones in 1996 -- and my mom answered it.

My mom came into the living room and, knowing just how huge this moment was, whispered, "It's ... Madge!" My heart leaped into my throat -- more than it ever had for some dopey boy.

Madge had called me on the phone! And it wouldn't be the last time, either.

I didn't have much to offer to Madge, except my wide-eyed and puppyish devotion. Neither of us had cars, but we went wherever we wanted. We took the bus to the Mount Oliver Bathhouse and pretended to be mermaids when we swam in the pool. We caught a Greyhound to New York City (and figured out, on the way,  how to simultaneously use each other as a pillow). That's where she sneaked me into a 21+ concert, and I was too afraid to talk to anyone the whole night for fear I'd sound underage.

Madge gave me books, and mix tapes, and stacks of poems she'd written. She took me thrift shopping, and helped me pick out a white vintage lace slip, which I liked to wear with my army jacket.

We lounged around her apartment, painting our nails and daydreaming while we cranked Bikini Kill, Liz Phair, and PJ Harvey on her record player.

We went to the beach, and we traveled to see Pearl Jam. She was  the only person I'd ever met who loved Eddie Vedder as much as I did -- and understood him like I did -- with all his aching, beautiful, corny sincerity. We talked about Eddie endlessly, as though he was someone we knew, because it felt like he was.

Madge went to live in London for a while, and I followed her there.

This is us in Amsterdam, where we went to see The Tragically Hip.

Madge cracked open new music, our city -- and the whole world -- and showed it to me.  

I copied her endlessly, but could never keep up with her latest thing. Madge was always starting a new business, working on a new art form, hosting Open Mic nights, fronting a band, or publishing a book.

Madge was constantly taking care of me, even paying my way so I could do cool things with her. But she also challenged me. She laughed at my awkwardness and poked fun at my shyness. And I felt more confident with her by my side.

I'll never forget the day she came to meet me while I was working on my high school newspaper. Madge, tall, sparkling, and long since graduated, strolled in to the school computer lab like she owned the place. My classmates stopped talking and stared at her with open mouths. And I gathered my things and left with her, feeling more proud than I'd ever felt in my life.

Madge was my rock star. She still is.

Looking back, I'm so glad our love never lost its luster, not even temporarily. Madge has always been around, even when she moved away, and even now, as she and her husband meander around the country. We still Facetime, and email, and I know that next time she comes to town, we'll catch coffee or a cat circus or just lay in bed, playing with each other's hair.

Madge, on my wedding day, teaching me how to curl my eye lashes.

Too busy singing

For all the times I cried in your arms,
for all the times you had to pretend to like my crummy boyfriends just because I thought I did,
for all the times you faithfully responded to my meltdowns, never once brushing me off or saying the wrong thing,

thank you.

I love you, Madge!

Happy birthday.

 ... 

That girl thinks she's the queen of the neighborhood
I got news for you -- she is!

The Best Kind of Female Friendships

 

My friends are the kind of women who will send you flowers when your dog dies. Or they'll invite you over, wrap you in a blanket and hand you a cup of tea. They'll celebrate your birthday, listen to your stories, request to hear the funniest ones over again, and tend to you with Pepto Bismol when your happy hour goes terribly wrong. My friends and I love and encourage each other, 100% of the time.

I'm vaguely aware of an alternate reality in which women are mean to each other. When I met my husband, he'd had all too many experiences with this kind of woman and seemed to believe that female friends were prone to jealousy and fights.

Say, for example, one of my friends had to bail on a birthday celebration we'd been planning for weeks. He might have asked, in a tone mixed with suspicion and concern, "What happened to So-and-So?"

"Ahh, her kid has pinkeye!" I'd explain, or whatever it was. Our friendships remain solid even when one of us has to duck out for a while. There's nothing to fight about.

I know there's plenty of Mean Girls in the world and in the workforce. But I've been fortunate enough to remain blissfully immune to them, in part because I'm not interested in their friendship.

I'm friends with women who stick up for each other. Who help. Who call each other out when needed, but in the nicest possible way. I'm friends with smart, funny women who have bigger ambitions than cutting other people down.

I love them.

This blog is dedicated to Madge and to the Wolfpack: Jessica, Christy, Megan, Krista, and Kim. Thank you for being mine.

When Love Turns into Grief (and Back Again)

It's been six weeks since I lost my tiny soul mate.

Porter

I miss him every day. I miss him so much, I've resorted to magical thinking -- desperately wishing for a way to time travel back to the accident and save him. I've carefully thought through every magical scenario. Would I tell my husband I'd come from a terrible future? Would he believe me? Or would I secretly watch the next six weeks unfold all over again, only happier, because this time, I'd have my little guy by my side?

Sound crazy? I know. This is why I've  grown impatient with myself. No one wants to feel crazy.

But a friend lifted a great burden when she put it this way: Love and grief are completely entwined. When the heart can no longer love -- at least, not the way it's used to -- the feeling turns to grief. But the feeling never dulls.

That made sense to me. Love turns into grief.

Anyone who loves will eventually grieve. 

But recently, I learned that there is another ending to that sad sentence.

It happened because I celebrated my birthday. I love my birthday. I love everyone's birthday, and I like to make a big fuss. But this year, I couldn't imagine how I could possibly have a happy birthday. I knew my only wish (to have Porter back) could never come true, so I wanted to let the day pass by with as little disappointment as possible.

But my loved ones didn't let that happen. Even though I didn't make a big deal out of my birthday, they did. For three days straight, I was showered with love and surprises. My friends took me out, bought me drinks, and pulled me onto the dance floor. My husband presented a cake onstage at a concert, and got the entire audience to sing to me. His band went along with the party and even dedicated my favorite song to me. The next night, I got to be the guest of honor at a decadent birthday dinner party. I even got Facetimed from afar.

Love helps heal a broken heart, and I got so much love.

Love turns to grief. Sad but true.  

But love (and time) turns grief back to love again.

It's such a relief to realize that. That you really can dance and laugh again without loving any less. 

Thank you Billy, Mom, Dad, Madge, Jessica, Christy, Krista, Megan, The Ten Band, Marcy, Chris, Alex, Dale, Line, my co-workers, Winnie, Firefly, and everyone who sent me a present or sweet message for my birthday this year. You made me so happy. I love you.

The Most - Unexpectedly - Perfect Parts of My Wedding

I got married on Saturday. I had the time of my life.  

Of course, the best part was getting to marry my favorite person. But there were so many other awesome surprises that caught me off guard. Whether goofy, sweet, or downright dumb, these are some of the moments that helped make the day an epic event that I will never, ever forget.

(in no particular order…) 

My Bridesmaids and “The Titscrepancy”

Thanks to my amazing friend Chris, I had the wedding dress of my dreams. It was perfect in every way and it fit me like a glove. But I should have taken it off and put it back on again when I realized that my bosom wasn’t exactly lined up with the dress’s bosom. Instead, I didn’t.

When I shimmied into my dress, I was way too excited to notice that anything was wrong. I just wanted to bolt down the aisle and see my groom. It took all of my restraint to stand still for a photo, let alone get undressed and dressed all over again.

So, my bridesmaids spent the rest of the day sweetly hovering around me and squishing my chest into place — a problem that my Maid of Honor hilariously named “The Titscrepancy.” It was a perfect metaphor for my giddiness about the day and the loving attention my girls Madge, Jessica, and Leigh Ann payed me.

And I felt awesome in that dress. 

When My New Husband and I Sang into Each Other’s Faces

My husband Billy and I love each other effortlessly. But, it seemed like the ordeal of the wedding was going to be a bit of an effort for him.

So I was surprised when he told me wanted to have a couple’s dance. The idea of it made me nervous … I couldn’t imagine dancing — on display — while everyone watched us.

But the whole room dissolved when the music started. I didn’t even notice that anyone else was there.

Billy and I danced to Pearl Jam’s “Future Days,” and to my delirious delight, he sang the words to me while we twirled around. And, like I do every time Pearl Jam songs play, I belted out the lyrics right along with him. So we spun, laughed, and sang right into each other’s grinning faces: 

“All my stolen missing parts
I've no need for anymore
I believe
And I believe cause I can see
Our future days
Days of you and me.”

It was exhilarating. And perfect.

No price tags on these vases!

When He Scraped The Price Tags Off All The Vases

But back to the pressure. I didn’t really get many pre-wedding jitters, but Billy did. However, I knew I was marrying the right man when, two days before the wedding, he stayed up late to scrape price tags off the bottoms of at least 50 vases.

Even after he convinced me that no one was going to pick the vases up, turn them over, and see the offending price tags, he kept on scraping. For me.

I love him. 

Watching My Parents Have Fun

My parents are the kindest people you’ll ever meet. They’re thoughtful, gentle, and unassuming people. And they’re not really into weddings, which was nice for me because they never butted into my wedding planning — not once.

I expected my parents to have a nice time at my wedding, but I didn’t expect to see them have a blast. And I think they did. I’ll never forget dancing to The Von Bondies with my mom. She rocks!

When My Maid of Honor Drove My Car

When we left the salon the morning of the wedding, Madge sensed that I was way too hyped up to safely drive my car. So she took the wheel. Then she took me to my wedding, chatting happily about what it’s like to love and live with a creature so wonderfully baffling as a man.

Also, her fabulous coif was so tall, it kept bumping my Camry's ceiling!

When it Smelled Like Teen Spirit

I wanted our wedding to rock. I think it did, thanks to our carefree approach to the day, our awesome DJ Ray, and the fact that our friends let loose and had so much fun with us.

Two of my MOST favorite parts of the wedding were:

When Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” burst out onto the playlist, and our friends flooded the dance floor and bounced up and down to it, mosh-pit style!

And when Pearl Jam’s “Black” started, except it wasn’t Pearl Jam. It was a startlingly authentic rendition by Ten: A Tribute to Pearl Jam, one of my favorite bands long before I married their guitar player. The members of Ten and their beautiful wives joined us on the dance floor, and we swayed and grinned and danced to an utterly perfect moment.

Two people did tell me that our wedding was too loud. 

I replied, “That’s how I wanted it.” 

We Messed Up the Ceremony (a little) 
Okay so we had some minor mistakes. I don't even know why I'm standing on what is traditionally the groom's side.

Actually, I do. It's because I was SO EXCITED, I ran down the stairs and clasped Billy's hands without another thought. I didn't even wait for my dad to catch up! I'd waited my whole life to marry Billy, and I couldn't wait another second.  

And I think the first rule in being a rock & roll bride is not giving a crap about the small stuff. :)

This is no big D!

“This is Not an Issue.”

Our venue, the Hyeholde, was over-the-top perfect. It looks like a castle, nestled into the woods, and the service was amazing. 

This helped when I had my one-and-only bridal meltdown. I woke up in the middle of the night before the wedding, literally trembling, I was so worried about our wedding cookies and making sure no one's contributions would be left out of the spread.

I called and emailed the event manager, worried sick. 

He calmly replied, “Thank you, Jolene. This is not an issue.”

Um. Yup.

It wasn’t.

The Best Compliment I Got All Day

It sure was fun floating around while people told me I was pretty. I got a HUGE kick out of it. (I’m so grateful to my friend Nichole for doing my makeup and making me feel prettier than I’d ever felt in my life!)

But my dear friend Suaz gave me the most meaningful compliment of the day. I only got to spend a moment with her that day. She used our time together to tell me, “You look like you’re really present.” 

It had been my biggest fear that I would glaze over and miss the day in an anxious blur. But I didn’t, and Suaz helped me appreciate that. I can honestly say I relished each and every blissful second of that day. 

All the Love in the Room

This part sounds a little sappy, but it's true.

Our budget  played a part in every single decision we made about the wedding, including the number of guests we could invite. In the end, Billy and I each identified 20 couples, no more, that we could invite.

Although I would have loved to have even more loved ones join us, our number ended up being a pleasantly manageable one. I can honestly say I loved everyone in the room. I never got whisked away to meet my mom's college roommate or other stranger. Every person in that room was special to us, and I swear -- you could feel it.

The Be-All End-All Cookie Table

Okay, so, the first thing you need to know is that cookies are my favorite food. I am madly in love with cookies. The second thing you need to know is that the Cookie Table is a (genius, if you ask me!) Pittsburgh wedding tradition. When a woman gets married in Pittsburgh, her family comes together to make an absurd amount of cookies. The cookies are served at the wedding. It’s also customary to put out bags or boxes so the guests can take home as many cookies as they can carry.

I felt like I’d waited my whole life for a cookie table! But I was worried, because I don’t have a big family and I didn’t know who was going to make enough cookies for 40 couples.

But guess what happened. The wonderful women in my life rallied. Cookies came from far and wide — caramel cups, ladyfingers, peanut butter blossoms, truffles dipped in purple chocolate, little chocolate nests cradling M&M eggs, snowballs, pineapple squares, flaky wafers with lavender icing, mocha cookies, buttery shortbreads, Megan’s mom’s legendary baklava, apricot twists, and so much more. And to my utter shock, our impressive cookie table spilled over, covering an entire baby grand piano, too! Our guests stuffed plates and loaded bags from the most epic cookie table I have ever seen.

My friend Line remarked, “You didn’t have a cookie table. You had a cookie room!”

It was glorious. And to everyone who baked for us, I thank you from my bottom of my heart!

Christy, Kim, Krista, me!, Jessica, and Megan

When it Was Time to Clean Up
I didn’t want the night to end, but I finally agreed that the DJ should play our final song — the same song Pearl Jam closes every show with — “YellowLedbetter.”

As the lights came on and the room emptied out, I looked over and saw my loyal group of girlfriends – the Wolfpack – getting ready to work. Even though their feet ached and they were, let’s face it, plenty drunk, they weren’t about to leave until every last centerpiece was packed up.

Once again, my heart practically burst. I’ll never forget that moment.

I just realized that I could go on and on and on. When my new sister-in-law put my veil in my hair. When my husband and I ate dinner at our sweetheart table, and he had me laughing as usual. When my aunt came into the bridal suite to see my dress. When we kicked off the reception with Joan Jett's "I Love Rock & Roll." I don’t want to forget any of these moments, or any of the people who shared them with me.

My heart bursts. To everyone who made our day so beautiful, thank you.

I love you.

Today I Did a Zip Line Course

And it was fun!

Today my girls Krista, Jessica and I did the course at Go Ape in Pittsburgh's North Park.

I don't see myself as overly prissy, because I like snakes and water slides and mosh pits. But I spent my first 30 years as an "indoorsy" type and I didn't realize what I was getting in to when I agreed to do this.

First, I thought there was going to be a lot of soaring around like a bird -- maybe I'd pop my little harness on, a muscular man would give me a gentle push into the sky, and I'd flit through the treetops, Facebooking the whole thing.

Krista clued me in to the fact that the suspended rope course was actually going to be challenging, and that I should maybe plan to wear workout clothes. At that point, I read Go Ape's website and realized it was going to be a treetop obstacle course. But somehow, when I read about the check-in "cabin," I still pictured more of a lodge. With changing rooms and cedar lockers and a place to select a fluffy white towel. I joked about looking for a smoothie bar but really, that would have been nice.

It wasn't like that. Jessica helped me find the place (I'm bad with suburbs; North Park swallows me.) by directing me the the folding table on the side of the road where you sign your life away. They actually, during your 30-minute training (most of which I spent practicing opening and closing carabiners for the first time in my life) remind you that mistakes could result in "fatal accidents." Hello!

But other than some mulch in our hair and a little brush burn on my thighs from a clumsy landing, we badass animal welfare workers did really, really well!

The courses start with a rope ladder up the side of a tree. This was actually the most awkward part for me because I wanted to shimmy up the tree faster than my safety equipment wanted me to. I had to keep yanking the rope and pulley system that I was attached to.

Krista on the damn rope ladder

Then, up in the air, Krista, Jessica and I would gather on the platform and freak out, especially if we had to choose whether to take a "difficult" or "extreme" path to the next tree.

I have never been afraid of heights, because I just can't picture myself falling to death. So, I was surprised when I stepped onto the first treetop platform and felt a wave of vertigo wash over me. The entire tree swayed a little in a woozy way. But then, just like with every other uncomfortable moment in life, you say "Can't deal with that right now" and push through the moment. And so we did.

You do have to keep track of yourself to keep yourself safe. Little signs remind you to always stay attached to something, which meant that you'd detach and attach your harness every time you moved from a ladder to a bridge to a zip line.  At first, I felt like I was going to forget what to attach to or get myself caught up in something. But after a while, we were all monkeying from tree to tree without having to over-think it.

I'm a very impatient person, though, and twice forgot to attach myself to my tree. But then, having survived anyway, I'd just attach to the next thing, like a rope bridge that was suspended across the sky.

Each section ended with a ride down a zip line to the ground. These were fun, especially the last one, which was long enough to allow a couple seconds for looking around and thinking, "I'm flying!!"

The landings were awkward. The most graceful way to land is into a running stop, which I think I did three times. The other time, I went face first and stopped when my thighs dragged across the mulch landing strip. Ouch!

But the best part was the part that some other guests tried to psych us out about. One girl told us, "My friend said she'd never do the Tarzan jump again, and she is a real hardass."

I thought, "Oh no, a hardass?" I like getting massages and pedicures and petting kittens! Am I tough enough for this?

But Krista bravely led the way to the Tarzan jump -- a free-fall off a platform, into a rope wall that you then climb back up into the trees. The first step into nothing was definitely scary (especially if, like me, you doubted your own ability to attach yourself to things). But after you man up and leap into the air, it isn't scary at all!

And there's something fantastic about getting sweaty outside, locating your own center of gravity and learning to trust your muscles.

On the way home, I thought about how gym class used to be the worst part of my school year. I would fake cramps, "forget" my gym clothes or beg my journalism teacher to write me a pass to get out of it. Sunday nights would turn gloomy as I remembered that the horrors of gym class awaited. It was sheer torture, because I believed I was too unathletic to keep up with the kids in my class. I didn't understand the rules of baseball, hated competition, couldn't connect my bat to a goddamn thing and I always seemed to smack the volley ball wildly, or a second too late.

I wish someone would have seen that I was a wiry, tireless girl and suggested a sport that I might actually have fun with. I wish they would have let me play on a rope course, learn hula hoop tricks, try archery, take a hike or just run around. There are plenty of ways that grownups exercise that I might have liked. Instead I'd cower in fear in the deep, deep outfield...waiting for the sweet relief of English class, where I would be on top of my game again.

Anyway, now I'm happy at home with my Beagle, enjoying the iPhone videos Jessica made of our day. You can hear the ridiculous sound of me laughing, helplessly, in every one! Whoopsie!

I'd also like to say that the smell of sunscreen gives me an instant mood boost. I put it on and my brain shakes off its cobwebs and thinks, "Beach." I don't think I've ever worn sunscreen on a day that I had to do something that was a drag.

If you want to try going Ape, click over here, and then tell me about it!