Tuesday, June 25, 2013


As I was reading The Lynburn Legacy yesterday (and laughing myself silly over some of the dialogue), I had a humorous, and slightly unsettling thought: I don't have friends, I have a collection of characters for a novel I might not write.  Don't get me wrong, I love all of these people, but sometimes, I'm not certain they are real. The absurdity of our combined lives seems like something out of a dark comedy.

Take this morning's phone call, for example.  I called Heather and she answered with "Can I tell her I'll call her back?", not quite spoken into the receiver.  Then more clearly, "Mandy, Can I call you back in like fifteen minutes? I am not done causing my child agony."  She was laughing, and over the line, I could hear the faintly displeased rumble of her teenage son.  I'm not sure what today's torture was, but it's likely to be splinter removal or proving that turning into a big, stinky, teenage boy does not, in fact, free you from your mother's sense of humor.This is a fairly normal exchange for us.  No, really, this one barely rates on the weird scale.  Last night, we were texting each other with the purpose of harassing my husband (who was a captive victim as he was icing his back after physical therapy and couldn't run away).  It ended with the phrase "Oooh, I'm shaking in my kinky boots, not!" and my husband giving us the thin lips, his displeased face.

Another friend has actually introduced me to people as "The best witch I know", which leaves people wondering a.) am I really a witch, or did he mean to say something that sounds like "witch"?  b.) Has he lost his ever loving mind?, and c.) What do I say to that?  It's actually a little fun to watch.

How about the friend who's looking for a new used car and announced that her brother, a used car dealer, is bound to give her the car at cost due to a thirty year old family rule about not profiting from family members?  This was after she grilled me about a strange PM she got from a intern at work who happens to have gotten her name, and my name,  from my mother (who sold the intern's boyfriend jewelry in North Carolina).

My characters, um, I mean, friends, are crazy, entertaining and full of life, of course, so am I.  The upside, and the downside, of all this is that I don't often need sitcoms for entertainment. I just have to pick up the phone or go visit someone.  If I could only find a moment to write these things down, I'm sure I could write a great novel based on the people around me.

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