friendship, friendship, just the perfect blendship

My kid did mic ops for the school musical last weekend, which was Anything Goes, and damn that Cole Porter wrote some catchy songs. I’ve had the soundtrack in my head on repeat for a week.


The eldest BFF, with whom I have been friends since the age of ten, lost his mom a week ago. She was in hospice care, so it wasn’t exactly a shock, but it’s always a surprise, I think. The when of it always seems to result in “Wait, now?” and a lot of rushing around. So he was down here, about an hour and a half north of us, paying season rates for a crappy motel room, and when she passed I talked him into coming to our house while he waited on arrangements.

By “talked” I mean I bullied him into it by saying, “For fuck’s sake, just come to my house and let my husband cook for your grieving vegetarian ass, Jesus Christ.” And, knowing how I express my love (via anger and swearing), he agreed and moved into my home office for a week.

(Apparently his wife was also bullying him from the other direction, so T and I did unintentional tag-teaming to get him here, which is awesome.)

It’s got me thinking all week about kindness, though. There’s the kindness of offering to put your BFF up for a week so he can save money and not be alone after he loses his mom, but there is also the kindness of letting your BFF give you a place to stay when you’re dealing with something inevitable and sad that she can’t fix. There’s the kindness of cooking to someone’s dietary restrictions, and the kindness of enjoying that food. I feel weirdly like I did when I was in his wedding: like, I’m grateful to be allowed to be a part of this moment with him. It’s a testament to our friendship, I guess, and a signal that over the past 40 years, I did something right to engender that trust and love.

Today is the funeral, then tomorrow he heads back north to his wife and daughter (and menagerie). I’ll miss him sitting across the table, eating oatmeal for breakfast while I write, but I know his family needs him. And I know he’s okay.


Still can’t figure out the horizontal line! Old school text breaks!


What else? I dunno, I’ve been doing pretty well on Wordle this week. Did some agent and publisher research. Sent some queries. I finished two stories in January, and now I move into revisions for the rest of this month. Things are moving slowly, but they are moving.

I’m still singing Cole Porter, though. Lahdle ahdle ahdle, quack quack quack.

Published by Laura E. Price

I read (you can check out my Goodreads if you want; it's linked on my blog). I write (I’ve been published in Cicada, On Spec, Strange Horizons, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Betwixt, Metaphorosis, Gallery of Curiosities, The Cassandra Project; the stuff that’s available online is linked on my blog). I plan for the inevitable zombie apocalypse and welcome the coming of the gorilla revolution. Or the anarchist rabbits. Whichever happens first. (I also blame my husband for basically everything.)

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