A friend called me the other day - crying.  She was upset about an unpleasant exchange she had with her son.  I'm the worst mother.  I reminded her of what she told me when I called her with a similar story.  The worst mother sets her children on fire when they don't listen.  Geez.  My tears quickly stopped.  I might yell from time to time - but wow.  Perspective.


My friends offer me insight into - me.  One would think that since I have a front row seat in this drama of life, I would be able to recognize the truth, my reality.  And yet I cannot.  My perception of what is happening and the reality of what is happening are wildly different at times. My friends come to the rescue when I reach out to them.  They laugh with me or cry with me or metaphorically slap me across my face.


I called my friend complaining that I went to the movies alone last Saturday night.  She says in all her wisdom, did you call anyone and ask them to join you? There is no room for poor, lonely Lori Ann.  She reminded me friends don't read minds.  Shoot.


I told another friend that I am certain I have gained weight since I reintroduced carbs into my diet. Yes, you have, she says. I can see it in your face. Wait, what?  My friends don't lie to me.  Even when I wish they would.


I was talking with my friend at work and I shared with him that I have 37 friends on Facebook. After a long pause he said, well that's just sad.  I know.  Then he asked if I wanted to borrow some of his friends.  So sweet.


My friends save my life - everyday with their laughter and honesty and compassion and vigilance. I love that they see me in a way that I do not see myself.  I love that they show me how to be a better me.  I love that they lift me up or knock me down or help me put my broken pieces together one kind word at a time.


After hearing about my crappy day at work today, I love that my friend said, bitch please.  Which lovingly translates into stop complaining and be grateful for your job.  Such wisdom.  Such perspective.

"Why is it so dark in here?" demanded Miss. Thing as she barged through the front door.  The receptionist looked up at the dimly lit lighting fixtures and around the dimly lit office and back at Miss. Thing.


"I find the lighting is just fine, Ma'am, almost cozy," she said in her sweetest southern drawl, and then added, "It might seem dark for you because you have on sunglasses."  Miss. Thing grabbed her Jackie O sunglasses off her face and glared at the new hire.


"Do you think you're funny," asked Miss. Thing, shifting her overstuffed tote bag and her extra holiday weight to her right hip.


"No, I don't think I'm funny at all.  In fact, my parents tell me I am the least funny person they know."


"Are you trying to be cute?" Miss. Thing scrunched up her nose like she smelled something foul.


"Well, I have been told I am as cute as a button."  The receptionist looked up at Miss. Thing with her big brown eyes and fluttered her eyelashes for effect.  She was hired for her sweet, southern manner but Miss. Thing was starting to believe she was the devil.


"I want you to fix this lighting issue right now!" barked Miss. Thing, shifting her overstuffed tote bag and her extra holiday weight to her left hip.  "Call the electrician!  Call the fire department!  Call the weatherman for all I care - just make it bright in here!"  The receptionist looked out the window at the cloudy, gloomy day and wished she had the power to make the sun shine.


Twenty minutes later there was clanging and crashing and metal against metal bashing as Miss. Thing dragged the ten-foot ladder out from the storage closet.  She was muttering and mumbling incoherently as she dragged and heaved the contraption to the center of the small lobby.  The receptionist sat quietly, watching.


Centering the ladder under a row of tiny lighting fixtures, Miss. Thing kicked off her black summer wedges and started to climb.


"Umm, Ma'am," squeaked the receptionist. "That ladder is awfully tall, which means you will be awfully high..."  Miss. Thing stopped climbing and looked down at her.  "Well, you are wearing a skirt Ma'am and well..."  Miss. Thing leaned her head back laughing, flipping her once blond hair and hugged the ladder.  She stretched her bare leg towards the receptionist, pointing her toes like she was a ballerina.


"My legs are my best asset," she said reaching down with one hand to caress the outstretched leg.  "I'm not shy about them - why should I be?  Now come stand here and hold the ladder for me."  Miss. Thing continued to climb to the top of the ladder, spreading her legs to balance herself  and...flash of white panties!  She stretched to unscrew the dimly lit light bulb - flash of white panties!  She stretched to replace the dimly lit light bulb - flash of white panties!  The receptionist looked up once because like a bad accident she was somehow obligated to verify the horror.


Thirteen light bulbs later the receptionist was blushing having just gone to 2nd base with Miss. Thing and the office was just as dimly lit as it was at the start of the day.  Having missed two conference calls and a meeting with her accountant, Miss. Thing dragged the ladder back to the storage closet and declared to all, "Just another example that I have to do everything around here!"  When she slammed the door to her office, the receptionist walked to the wall and with a giggle, moved the dimmer switch from dark to bright.