Happity birfday, Nurse Tattoo

Today is Nurse Tattoo’s birthday. She is 28. Which is pretty amazing, since I’m not old enough to have a 28 -year-old daughter. I have to start psychotherapy soon to get ready for the fact that she’ll turn 30 in two more years. And, yes, everything is about me.

I start every day by making a long list of things I’m grateful for. Sometimes, I have to dig pretty deep to find them.

I’m grateful I slept as well as I did.

I’m grateful it’s warm in here.

I’m grateful the cat is happy.

(That last one might sound really digging deep-ish, but Nuisance Kitty went through a terrible transition period right after I moved that included prolonged gastrointestinal upset and extensive vet bills. So, when I say I’m grateful the cat is happy, trust me. I’m GRATEFUL.)

Every day, there are also things that I don’t have to dig deep for at all. These pertain to the relationships in my life.

And chief among them is my relationship with Nurse Tattoo.

We now live about fifteen minutes apart from each other. The last time we lived in the same city was when she was in high school. We can do things like drop by each other’s house. And our conversations aren’t always all about catching up since the last time we saw each other; we get to talk about real things, like how we feel and what’s really going on.

One of many things I love about NT is that she calls me on my bullitshay. Those are the best kind of people in my life, the ones who love me enough to tell me when I’m full of it.

I also love that she has the weirdest sense of humor. And that she makes vegan caramel corn when I go over to her house.

And that, even though we’ve played approximately 1,000 games of Canasta, we never get tired of it. We’re always surprised when the other person uses the same tricks she’s used 500 times before.

If you don’t know Nurse Tattoo, you should. You’d like her.