I just spent the last couple hours with my good friend Kathryn and her husband Bruce.  Kathryn is a fellow writer … albeit not as good as me.  Whenever I remind her of that, she always points out that she is a published author.  I counter with the fact that I have several greeting cards under my belt.  And so it goes.

I grew up with Kathryn … we’ve known each other since we were four.  She’s the single biggest dingbat I’ve ever known.  She’s also a phenomenal mother and wife.  It’s one of her more endearing qualities.  I challenged her to start writing again so that she could find her voice.  She never really lost it … she just hasn’t put pen to paper lately because she’s busy being a mom.  After some gently prodding, I think she’ll get started sooner than later.  I’d like to see her rekindle her inner author.

In fact, if she writes something flattering about me – I may actually break down and post it on my website.  But knowing Kathryn it could go either way …

Her husband Bruce is a big, congenial fellow that you can’t help but instantly want as your new best friend.  He’s a gentle giant who can occasionally spew awe-inspiring one liners.  Little does he know … but he’s one part comedian, one part youth minister and one part husband/father … all wrapped and bundled in the body of a lumberjack. 

Poor Kathryn was raised ultra-religious and ultra-conservative.  My parents thought Kathryn would probably be a good influence on me.  Turns out, I was a bad influence on her.  I’m so proud.   She doesn’t just laugh at my wild inappropriateness … she snorts.  It renews my spirit.  And pushes me to test the boundaries of good taste.

Out of all the religious zealots I know, her mom is my favorite.  I always try and say at least one thing that will stir the pot.  Typically, peppering in words like, “Crud!” or “Shoot!” will have the desired effect.   God forbid I use the Lord’s name in vain.  (I just did … I hope she doesn’t read this.)

One time her mom pointed out I was probably going to hell.  I told her I would hold the door open for her when she got there.  (She didn’t talk to me for two years.)  When she pointed out that I was late picking up her daughter, I may have apologized and said, “Sorry, my bad … I was out having an abortion.”

I certainly hope Kathryn starts writing again … she has a lot of stories to tell and a lot of pent up energy.  And, believe me, if she does … you can count on a link to her website.  Just don’t tell her Mom … she thinks Kathryn is a missionary in Africa.