Sly's the Word

My best friend Sly came to visit me. She lives in Prince George, which is where I used to live before I moved to North Vancouver (into the house that I had never seen – only Doug had seen it when we bought it, which still is another story).

We’ve been friends for 28 years and pretty much know everything there is to know about each other – which is why we must remain best friends. That and the fact that we are the two funniest people we know. Just ask Doug (er, maybe not).

Sly has the quirkiest sense of humor of anyone that I know. She has this deep belief that we all should be stuffed when we die – we could be shaped into chairs and our hands used for ashtrays (back in the day when we smoked). That always kinda creeped me out - like what if 50 years down the road at Christmas dinner the grandkids are telling their kids - "You have to sit on Grandma, there are no other chairs" "But I don't want to sit on Grandma, she's gross" And then some big snarky guy sits on me and uses my hands to put out his cigar - blecck!!! But you know, a couple of bottles of wine and we’re on a roll. We’ve solved most of the world’s problems, created a gazillion of extremely useful inventions (like an aerobics tape for Biafrans – don’t ask), you know, generally being quite bright and cute (at least in our minds).

She’s watched my kids grow up and when they were in their teens, she became a mom herself (this after trying to convince her doctor at age 22 to tie her tubes – and telling anyone that if she ever felt maternal she would come over to my house and that would take care of it). Oh, and when she became a mom?? She couldn’t figure out why everyone wasn’t a mom and she was going to have 10 kids (riiight, Angelina) because it was the best thing ever. Then she had her second and came right back down to earth from whatever happy planet she had been on.

We still have a lot of fun. And when she comes to visit – Doug gets out his earplugs. We’re just way too much fun for him.