i heard the most appalling thing the other day.
i was standing in line at Sobey's and i overheard a conversation that went like this:
"which cheese did you choose?"
"hm. cheese is cheese."
it was literally a crisis moment for me. do i step in and educate? do i offer some boursin? i stood there and glanced at the speakers out of the corner of my eye. they were in their early twenties. babies. a prickle of pity, but also something akin to judgement? incredulity? maybe a little anger? i decided not to speak up, but found a friend leaving the store at the same time as me and quickly informed her of the overheard blasphemy. she mentioned cracker barrel, i recalled aged gouda, and some hope returned to my saddened heart.
last friday night i was overwhelmed with cheese greatness. why? i was in BC, surrounded by friends who understand "mon petit demon". so they came over to leah's house laden down with a multitude of cheeses. comfort and joy! we ate and talked and bloated and laughed. it was fantastic. there's something so cozy about being surrounded by old friends - like memory foam. you just sink right in and feel supported in all of your two thousand parts. they know you, and remember that time you...and the way you...and how you...and they still love you. and believe the best about you. and trust your intentions and understand your heart. and you for them.
the opposite of an old friend is a border guard.
picture a car filled with three women in their thirties (i'm one, we're all cute and a little giddy being sans children). it's early saturday morning and we're attempting a run across the border for some shopping while i'm in town. we have our passports ready.
we have not discussed it but i think we're all planning on beginning the border-guard relationship with large smiles and a hint of flirtation. we pull up, the windows are rolled down. we each make eye contact and hitch up the smiles so that they hit the corners of our eyes, just a little. sparkle. say hello.
back peddle! this man does not want smiles that hit the eyes!!
serious faces, still soft, but more contemplative. as if to say "you have a gun. yes. we see that and respect your power and authority, but can't you see that we are as harmless as doves?" don't look at each other. remain calm.
oh, wait, he's lightening up. offer some info, bring the smiles up half a notch.
back peddle! yes and no will do, say nothing more. stop smiling all together. begin praying for mercy. angle the eyebrows - think shar pei, or hound dog, but try not to look desperate. embody submission.
slowly drive away.
because our friend Jacyln is sure that the border crossings are heavily bugged (a.k.a. they can hear you) say positive things for the first thirty seconds. "what a kind man. i'm so glad he takes his job seriously. my! i feel safe, don't you?"
then gun it and breathe out and complain for a good five minutes. :) if old friends are memory foam, boarder guards are a bed of nails. or maybe a sleeping bag with a snake at the bottom. i'm glad we made it out alive!
and truly, as long as you're with friends you love, even militant border guards can be fun. after.
so, a toast. to old friends, and new friends who feel like old friends, and strangers who will one day become old friends. to you.