My dear friend Angel turns 32 on August 20th. We have been friends almost our entire lives, ever since we were in nursery together crawling around on the purple carpet and playing with the oversized cardboard bricks. We have shares joys and laughter and endured our sadnesses together. Together we spent hours playing and pretending at her house and mine. We snuck into the kitchen for late night ice cream and stayed up late sharing our thoughts. I have even made many a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night (you have to have the world's smallest bladder) because our long, dark hallway was too scary to make the trip alone. We experienced the bad 80's perm, the mean high school French teacher and first boyfriends. We have cruised the streets of our hometown in the family sedan singing along to the radio as loudly as possible and dreaming of "the one". Rob swears my voice changes when I talk to Angel on the phone. It does. We have our very own dialect.
We aren't exactly alike. And I have to say I am insanely jealous of her ability to take something inexpensive and make it look tres chic, whereas on me it would just look cheap. I would give my right arm for her gorgeous thick hair and I hate, hate, hate that she can eat one bite of something and put it down with an: I'm full.
For my children, the thing I wish most for them in life is A) the courage to follow their dreams and B) a great love and C) a best friend. Happy Birthday Angel. I loves you! (The picture above is of Angel holding a freshly hatched J.T. for the first time. The quality is crap... it is an old picture that was scanned. I found a new one, but can't get it loaded. I'll post it later.)