{otterific}

Shenanigans. Time stealers. Fashion. Uncontrollable laughter. Forever.

There, collected in my noggin, is a space made just for her.  It's a corner lot with one giant collage that hangs crooked just above our memories piled there on the floor.  Some are stacked.  Some stored.  All kept.  In that rectangular frame on my cerebral wall, I stuff.  Cram even.  Words like hope, holla, play, always, ache, hilarious & thank you just to name a sprinkling.  I shove them in sideways and bunch them just the same along the edges.  Nah, it's okay if they jut out.  I'm good.  It's my space.  For her.  And she doesn't mind a bit.

The collage of us is full.  Overflowing with 18 years of together.  She has been my constant source of reflection.  Like a mirror meant for me to peer in only to see the who I want to be a little more and the someone who needs to let go of the wicked that creeps in from time to time. She has that capacity in my life.  I trust her with my image so very much.

She stood beside me on my wedding day almost 13 years ago.

And I stood beside her on her wedding day just this year.

Our friendship works.  Not because it is filled with frills and big fancy trips.  Nope.  It works because we fit best beside one another piled up on the couch in our jammies. We work together with style.  And we know just exactly the article of clothing on the Goodwill rack that the other will reach for.  Oftentimes, we reach for it for the other.  Our 18 years have known closeness like one can't quite explain and then gaping holes of absence when life handed out hard and uneven needed some settling to do.

Through it all, I count her.  I count on her.  I just keep stuffing there in our rectangular crooked frame. Words that surround my heart when I think of the goodness she gives to my life.  For the other.  Yep, I think that describes us best.  Please welcome my best friend, Angela Burke, to the blog.

Words are not my strong suit. I have been struggling to think of my "word" for this post. A few came to mind: peace, balance, history, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. All were too serious, too heavy, and/or Snoozefest USA for me. I came this-close to picking the last word because like Lay's potato chips, I cannot have just one.

Some 18 years ago, your BlogMaster M-A-C made me, along with a gaggle of other friends, take some wacky test that best describes your temperament based on animal characteristics. Say wha...? Having just earned her teaching certificate, Miss Casey has us working quietly and independently answering our questions. Just like her momma, she is truly a teacher at heart and soul.

After tallying up our answers, one-by-one we go around the room revealing our "animal." Lions, Retrievers, and Beavers. At no surprise to me, nor anyone else in the room, I am truly an Otter. We otters like to go through life doing our own thing. Carefree, doing the backstroke at our pace. Plain and simple, we procrastinate. It's our middle name. Time management and planning are not our finest hours either. Just ask my sister. She fired me from my own wedding this past May. She says, "I had the vision, but lacked in the execution of details."

So, fast forward to today. I am racing driving the speed limit for an appointment to meet the hubs to which I am running late and now extremely lost. I just so happen to be married to a police officer who is militant about time and driving the speed limit. I have ZERO sense of direction. He says I would not be able to find my way out of a wet paper bag. Whatever that's supposed to mean. And time...well, I tend to lose track of it easily and grossly underestimate it on a daily basis. In a former life, I do believe that I very well might have been an Indy race car driver. I have a need for speed. Driving the Autobahn at 130 MPH in a 5-speed Mini-Cooper is on my bucket list. For realz, I kid you not. I also thought it would only take me 15 minutes to write this blog post. For-ty-fiiiive minutes later, I'm still here typing...

I have learned to own my otterness over the past two decades. I am insanely organized, a control freak, yet procrastination is my crack. The last minute, the 11th hour, and I...we are a small gang. It's how I roll, yo. If I tell you a project is going to take me 20 hours, know that reality is, it's going to take me more like 85 hours. In my head, it really is only going to take me 20 hours. Reality: 1; Angela: 0. But by golly, it will be the best looking project around ... 85+ hours later. See? Owning it.

Being late and lost, I decide to multi-task and call my hype girl to ask her when this blog post article is due because I know she's already told me once (Oops!). I think it's due soon and I haven't a clue what to write about (double Oops!). We haven't talked in weeks. I miss her. She answers and we don't skip a beat. My heart does its happy dance when I hear her voice. I tell her my saga of being late and lost. We then debate over who is the best at time management. It's a tie. We both are that GOOD at it. Laughter ensues.

By my own admission, I tell her that I'm being otterific and have not started my blog post article, yet. Otterific is my Angie-ism for terrific procrastination. She asked me if I knew what I was writing about. I may have, sort of, fudged, told a little white lie, and said, "Yep, I have some ideas."

That's when I knew. My word. Otterific. To the k.Mac blog readers who get what it's like being otterific, can I get an A-MEN? To those who don't, "thank you for you time." And yes, I meant you, not your. Just ask ole Meg.

{The "you time" reference from Angie:  I wrote a letter to President George W. Bush about 15 years ago.  After scouring the letter with my best editor eyes oh about 80 times, I still sent the sucker with the ending sentence:  "Thank you for you time."  NICE.  No "r".  It's become one of our many regular sayings from one to the other.}  Memory making:  COUNT IT.

Burke. Angela Burke. Angie is my name and Marketing is my game...at least 8AM-5PM anyways. Otherwise, you can find me with my nose in a book, obsessing over celebrity gossip (I own it.), or speeding down the highway because I'm always late for everything (Just don't tell my police officer husband on me!) Laughing is my favorite, especially if it's with my bestie. She puts the MAC in k.Mac. #shemakesmyworldabetterplace #wealwaystalkinhastagstoeachother #donthate #appreciate #okimdone

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