Sunday, April 3, 2011

Becks & Co.


So, I had some company last week. Becky, from Farmgirl Paints, drove FIVE hours out of her way (when she was already 10 hours from home!) to come and visit our farm-hood, with Little and Big Chicks in tow.

They stayed for two nights.

Before I knew it, they were gone. It went so quickly. It was a blur of cheese-crackers and salsa and Polly Pockets and sweatpants.

Our kiddos acted like they'd known each other forever. They played outside for hours on end. They pretty much ignored the mommies, which gave us plenty of time to gab. And eat.

Here's something I'm learning about myself: In times when I might be most inclined to try to impress someone, I default to my most mediocre self. No bells. Nary a whistle. I tidied up, but I didn't really clean. I cooked, but nothing pretty. I strolled around the house in the early morning hours with my hair still in my wonky top knot. I didn't blow-dry.

And you know what? I knew it didn't matter. I knew Becky wasn't here to be wowed by me. I knew she didn't expect to walk away thinking I was "fabulous", because I'm not. Her and her girls climbed right in to our boring routine and walked around in it like it was theirs. That's my kind of company.

I took her for boring drives around farm country. I bought her a Diet Coke in the McDonald's drive-through. All 7 of us packed into the van Friday morning for Calvin's blood-draw. And in the evenings, when the kids were all passed out from farmy air overload, she would squeeze onto the couch, single-file, with Cory and I and our salsa bowl.

Everything about her is genuine and endearing. She is the real deal. Her laugh is magnificent. She doesn't know how to put on airs.

Then, after 30 hours of non-stop nothing, I took that girl out on the town. (CMB babysat!) Brooke joined us. We did the whistle-stop Notre Dame mini van tour in the rain, then hit up my alma mater, Bethel College, for six seconds worth of kicks. She got to meet the Junk Evolution girls. And she saw, firsthand, the innumerable virtues of the Mazatlan Fajita Quesadilla. So much fun.

I am still amazed and honored that they made the trip.

I'm pretty sure they're gonna go ahead and come again next month. I mean, she didn't say that, but I'm sure they will. Ten hours shmen hours.

To read her take on the visit and see scads of photos, go here. And give her a big squeeze for me while you're there.