Guest Blog: My Friend Cat.
summer 2003, Meg and Cat
After seeing the very cool and wacky results of inviting my brother to post a guest blog on Blogcabin, I asked a few of my friends to write a little something sharing the story of my friendship with them. They all seemed a bit daunted by the task:
"Noooo....you're the writer. You write it."
But that's not the point. I wanted to see what their memories of our relationship consisted of; what tales they would tell if asked to define "us". So far, only my friend Catherine has risen to the challenge. She does that because she's a) always got something to say (like me); and b) has a million goofy Meg and Cat stories to choose from. I love Catherine -- we are the best kind of kindred there is.
This is what she wrote:
***
I met Meg on a dock waiting for a boat. Indeed, it is strange as far as first meetings go. We introduced ourselves, then sat on sleeping bags waiting for the water taxi to take us to a deserted, yet beautiful island for a weekend leadership retreat.
Meg had hired me to work for her at the summer camp often dearly mentioned on this blog. As we sat on sleeping bags, we talked and talked and realized that we knew many of the same people, had almost dated the same guy (Key word: ALMOST), and had much in common.
For example, we are both loud. When we laugh, squeals and giggles that sound almost inhuman resonate for miles. We also both enjoy dancing and singing at the top of our lungs.
Meg, myself and some others, including our friend Kevin (Wakeboarder supreme) were on dish duty one day at the camp. Meg and I both enjoy singing loudly and very out of tune to the Backstreet Boys. Now, Meg and I can both sing fairly decently, however, you wouldn't know it to hear our loud, horrifying version of 'Quit Playing Games With My Heart.'
I think we nearly drove Kevin to insanity. He was begging us to stop, which we did only after he threatened to leave us with a whole camp full of dirty dishes to do by ourselves. A few weeks later when he actually heard me sing properly, he was stunned that I could actually carry a tune. Our off-key singing is very convincing.
Most people thought we'd been friends for years, and we both felt like we had. The two summers we worked together at camp were filled with more off-key wonders, Hawaiian Tropic Tanning Oil, magazines, tanning, actual real singing, mooning aattractive younger men with their shirts off…oh wait. I think that was just me. Anyway, all in all, our friendship has been quite memorable.
A couple of years later, we were attending a friend's wedding in Chilliwack (editor's note: the hellish rural town outside of Vancouver where I did some growing up). On the way to the reception, Meg and I were in my car chatting about people we'd seen at the wedding, what they were wearing, etc.
I looked up as I drove and saw something bright in the sky. It was a parachute with a person hanging from it. Skydiving is popular in Chilliwack. I think that possibly these people are hoping their parachutes don't open because, well, they live in Chilliwack. Heck, if I lived there, I'd definitely want a way out. But that's beside the point.
I pointed at the skydiver and said, "Wow! Look at that!" Meg looked ahead and said "Oh my Gosh!" I had a deep thought about people and life and said, "It must take so much courage to do that!"
And Meg replied, "Drive around with a bunch of potatoes in a truck?"
I looked at her and she was very puzzled. I suddenly realized that we were looking at 2 different things.
While I stared in awe at the skydiver, Meg was looking ahead of us on the road at a ratty old pick-up truck with a pile, and I mean a BIG pile, of potatoes in the back. They were not in boxes, or in any kind of order. It was just a pile of potatoes in a pickup. As I saw what she was looking at, I started to laugh. I could only point to the skydiver as the tears started to come down. Then Meg started to laugh, and we giggled and cried all the way to the reception. I guess if someone asked me to drive a pick up full of potatoes, it would take courage for me.
After all, I don't live in Chiliwack.
***
How can you not love this girl?
6:12:18 PM 
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