Today for lunch, I met my friends Margo, Eddie, Jennifer, and Chase at Cheddar’s Scratch Kitchen in Fort Smith. I wish I could tell you they came all the way from Northwest Arkansas exclusively to see me, but that’s not the case (and I’m okay with that). Rather, the four of them made the long haul to the River Valley because Chase wanted a Monte Cristo sandwich, and Cheddar’s is the only place that has one. Talk about dedication. I know people who won’t drive an hour for a booty call, let alone a sandwich. Chase actually created a Facebook page about it—that’s how much he loves the Monte Cristo.

After lunch, we took a moment to digest and made our way to Chase’s car. We all piled in, and I was in the back between Eddie and Margo, and it sort of felt like the Partridge Family bus, except we weren’t singing, and none of us are related, so maybe that’s a terrible comparison. Anyway, we went antique shopping, and Margo bought a cat with flowers on it to use as a doorstop because she likes cats and, I can only assume, has a door that won’t stay open. She also bought a set of glow-in-the-dark Madonna and Jesus statues because they were amazing.

Amen.

When I was a kid, my sister and I had a camera with actual film in it, and when we’d return from summer camp, we’d be so excited to get it developed. However, there was always a partially used roll with pictures yet to be taken, so we’d go to Walmart and take pictures of ourselves, you know, in shopping carts, next to a “for sale” sign, stuff like that. Well, even though the days of actual film are long gone, I still like to take silly pictures when I’m out shopping. So that’s what I did today.

Here’s one of me and my lord and savior, Jesus Christ. (For some reason I thought he’d be shorter. And don’t worry, I plan to go back and talk to him about those eyebrows.)

This is Chase in one of those machines that’s supposed to shake away body fat. The lady at the shop said it worked (although she didn’t know if it “worked”), but that you have to plug it in.

I took this photo because the ugly couch reminded me of a “gay test” that went around the Internet that pictured a hot guy in an ugly chair. It said, “If you think the guy in the chair is cute, you might be gay. If it occurred to you how ugly the chair is, you are gay.”

Lastly, here’s one of me with my head in the mouth of a golden crocodile. When I took it, there were several people standing nearby, and I almost decided not to take the picture. But then I reminded myself that I didn’t give a shit what they thought. So if you ever wonder what three years of therapy will buy you, you’re looking at it.

After the antique stores, we went to the mall in search of cheese on a stick, fried in corndog batter. (This was apparently another reason for the trip from Northwest Arkansas, and if you don’t have friends with this level of vision and dedication when it comes to food, I suggest you reconsider your friendships.) Well, the teenager at the corndog shop said that the corndog fryer was broken, and that it would be forty-five minutes before the repairman showed up. I think Jennifer said, “We drove all the way from Bentonville.”

First, damn it. Second, I don’t remember my teachers in high school ever mentioning that “corndog fryer fixer” was even a career option. Frankly, I feel let down.

To make up for The Great Fried Cheese/Corndog Disappointment of 2017, we got cookies and brownies instead. And then after we at those, Eddie said he was going back to the corndog shop to see if the fryer was fixed. A few minutes later, he sent Margo a message that said something like, “Jackpot,” which I took to mean that the fryer was working. So the rest of us started walking, and I silently thanked my insulin for all it had done for me over the years and said, “Now’s your time to shine.”

Well, every single one of us had cheese on a stick, fried in corndog batter. And we all lived happily ever after.

Okay, that’s not the end of the story, but it’s close. I was in a rush to get to a dance function, so we all took our cardiologist-approved food to go, and Chase drove me back to Cheddar’s where I’d left my car. Ever since we all said goodbye, I’ve been trying to figure out how to turn our time together into a blog post. I mean, all four of my friends have amazingly quick wits and wonderful senses of humor, so I kept thinking that I could write about some of the hilarious things that were said today. But of course, stuff like that usually falls flat on paper. (See what I did there?)

But here’s something. Over the years in therapy, I’ve had a number of friends who have been brought up in conversation with my therapist over and over and over again. At some point, I realized that if I was talking about someone to my therapist on a regular basis, it probably meant that I had a problem with that person, some sort of drama. Maybe I needed to fix a boundary, have a confrontation, or even apologize.

One day my therapist said, “Friends are for fun.” And I think her point was that often our friendships become too serious, too filled with drama, and we forget that friendships are relationships we choose in order to make our lives lighter and more enjoyable. Some days, I think, need to be spent with friends who like to laugh. And even better if they like to eat cookies and comfort food and cheese on a stick fried in corndog batter on days like today because those things are not only fun, they’re delicious. And God didn’t make stretch pants so they could hang in the closet and collect dust. So this is my letter of gratitude, both to my friends and to my stretch pants.

[Thank you, Margo, Eddie, Jennifer, and Chase for lending your beautiful faces to this blog and my day. I had an absolutely marvelous afternoon.]