Thank God For Friday And Other Stuff

It’s 1:30 a.m. but given my obsessive, hyper-alert state it might as well be lunch hour.  There’s a loop reel in my head that keeps replaying a work-related event from earlier in the day.

I have a small pool of good, old friends, two of whom are night owls, so pick up the phone and call one.  He picks up immediately.

It’s 3:45 a.m. when we hang up.

Back when my daughter was locked in the hospital Emergency Room revolving door, I learned an important lesson:  you learn who your real friends are by the people who appear in Intensive Care when you’re sitting there alone.  It’s not many.

I have a phone book full of acquaintances, church buddies, media contacts and former colleagues, neighbors and classmates.  But the ones I am most thankful for are those rare gems that been there in goods times and bad, know the nitty-gritty details of my life, and still accept me, idiosyncrasies and all.