Jason wanted me to tell you something.
I remember very clearly that he said, "Make sure that goes in the blog."
What 'that' is however, I remember not so clearly.
I'm sure it was something like 'You're always right dear.'
Whenever he says anything like that he always follows it up with 'the blog.'
I can tell you this about Jason.
He's a good husband.
He makes me smoothies for breakfast.
Granted, the fruit has the distinct taste of freezer burn but that's not the point.
The point is he's a good husband.
These arrived at work yesterday.
With a note that said, "I love you. I hope your day is going well. Maybe this will cheer it up. Love, your husband."
As far as husbands go, I think I got a good one.
Now I must tell you about a predicament I find myself in.
Last week I got an email telling me of a friend request on Facebook.
A friend request from a girl I haven't seen since high school, but who I haven't spoken to since the 7th grade.
I am friends with a lot of people I haven't seen since high school.
That is not the predicament.
I don't have great memories associated with this girl.
In fact, some of them are memories I've tried most of my life to ignore.
One of her family members didn't have my best interest at heart and as a result I was left with some issues to deal with later in life.
I looked at this friend request for a minute and pushed the "Ignore Request" button.
Yesterday I got an email from the same girl.
"You don't remember me?"
That's what she said.
My blog title is Because Nice Matters for a reason.
I don't always succeed at being nice, but I do try.
I thought of everything I wanted to say to this girl.
I typed and erased several replies...none of them very nice.
Finally one side won out over the other and I simply wrote, "Of course I remember you. How are you?"
She replied almost instantly with an email reminiscing about 'old times' and questions like 'where are you living now and what are you doing with your life?'
I answered her questions with generic answers.
She emailed again.
I haven't responded to that email.
I probably won't.
My predicament is just simply keeping my mouth shut when what I want to do is yell and scream and pull hair and say, "My dad will beat your dad up," like I should have done in the 6th grade.
And well...that's really all I have to say about that.