With Friends Like These…

I met Christy Seamon my junior year of college-for all intensive purposes, the day I moved in with her. To cut a long story short, I’d already pre-determined that she had no personality whatsoever, and she’d decided that I was the kind of girl that would insist on holding hands and singing sacred hymns together every night before a strict nine o’clock bedtime.

 Needless to say, both of us were a bit off in our initial assessments. [I go to bed at ten.]

We’ve been inseparable ever since. She’s the kind of friend that I can turn to and in all seriousness, ask a question like, “What’s that one thing we did that one time with that one guy?”-and as my team can attest to, she always knows exactly what I’m talking about. I think I’ll keep her.

When our senior year of college rolled around and the time came to figure out what on earth we were going to be when we grew up, I decided that I wanted to move to Africa and wasn’t going without Christy.

So she came too. Me and Christy is like peas and carrots. [Come to think of it, Hohos and Ding Dongs might be a more accurate descriptor. I’m humiliated.]

This year, we once again find ourselves on the dreaded job hunt and in the absolutely soul-numbing predicament of deciding what we’re going to do with the rest of our lives. Only this time around, we’re making haphazard decisions an ocean away from the continent that will be home to our new [old? It’s so confusing.] lives in six months. My latest ingenious idea, for those of you that are interested, is a little invention I like to call: [drum roll, please…]

The magic eight ball watch.


Think about it! You would have a magic eight ball on your wrist –ready and waiting to make any critical life-decision for you at a moment’s notice. Why, with my magic eight ball watch, you’d never have to make an autonomous decision again!

 “Should I move to Portland?” You may rely on it.

 “Is it a bad idea to eat a fourteenth brownie?” Concentrate and ask again.

 “Should I marry Harold?”  Don’t count on it.

Magic eight ball watches. I think I’ll be an absolute smash in Lithuania.

The thing about Christy is that she’d be first in line to buy one. She’s always in absolute favor of all my hair-brained schemes, Lord bless her.

Well last night we were sitting in the living room, and Christy was threatening to move to Iceland and become a bag lady as she researched potential job options for next year. I’m not kidding-she’d managed to work herself into a veritable weeping and wailing, teeth-gnashing frenzy.

After finding a possibility that came with an annual paycheck of 11K [paycheck? When you get down to it, that’s something more akin to a glorified goody bag…], she threw up her hands in exasperated frustration, tossed her laptop across the couch and proclaimed, “That’s IT! I’m going to be so POOR! I’m going to have to eat RAMEN for the rest of my life!”

Ever the eternal optimist [just call me little Miss Sunshine], and possessing an uncanny ability to always say precisely the right thing at precisely the right moment, I reassuringly commented:

“Well that’s okay, baby-at least you know how to cook that!”

That’s me. The perfect blend of tact and gentleness. [In my defense, Christy isn’t exactly known for her cooking prowess-but she DOES make a mean pot of Ramen. ;)]

About twenty minutes later, she’d pulled it together and it was my turn to fall apart. [The delicate timing on these things is no laughing matter.]  I’m still having difficulty walking on account of The Little Legs That Couldn’t, and 11:45 PM last night found me channeling Sybil,  sprawled out on the living room floor ranting to the ceiling like a madwoman. Christy, meanwhile, hung on my every word…

Me: [With at this point, what I’m embarrassed to admit was a shrill air of panic.] “What if I have a degenerative leg disorder and I can never walk normally AGAIN!? What if on my wedding day, I have to CLUB FOOT it down the aisle!?”

Christy, with that flawless blend of practicality and gentleness that we’ve so artfully perfected over the past four years of our friendship, didn’t miss a beat.

Christy: Well then, we’ll get you a Hover Round.


Cue raucous laughter.

The Ding Dong and I are going to be just fine. And if you need us in about sixty years, you’ll find us at the Grand Canyon. We’re taking the Hover Rounds, baby.


  1. BAHAHAH raucous laughter CUEd.

    OH you two are just precious and a half.

    …see you in MD this summer Ashley!! =) I’ll be waiting with a latte for you in hand and some pastries from a local patisserie ;)

  2. So…I just read and caught up on your life…SO..
    I’m sorry- your legs were sick
    Congratulations- on getting to go home and indulge on things you never even knew you liked until you moved overseas and couldn’t buy them
    I’m sorry- you lost the car
    Congratulations- on picking the short straw to watch your sister while your parents got a sweet getaway
    Congratulations- for getting better and getting to go back to Senegal
    I’m sorry- you lost access to all goodness that is the United States of America

    Does that suffice? I’ll try not to move to another country and get behind on your blog again. I’ve seemed to have missed some important info. Hope you didn’t think I didn’t love you anymore. I was just busy moving to another country. And making sure that our newest baby boy was adjusting to life outside of Africa (you should know how hard this is- he, howver, doesn’t yet realize how much cooler the food is) and getting our belongings sent to the correct city in the correct country so that we could sleep on something other than laminate flooring (not an easy task). So…anyway..lots of love and hugs. Marissa

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