Sand storm

I am thinking about entering the next “America’s Got Talent” competition. My skill is more impressive than singing, dancing or eating fire. I can have a complete conversation with my friend despite the fact that our kids (six between us) are constantly interrupting. I have been friends with Tiffany (with a y) since college. We met at Applebee’s where we both worked as waitresses. I didn’t get along with the majority of the staff, but Tiffany (with a y) and I clicked instantly. There happened to be another server named Tiffannie (with an ie). She was my arch nemesis. Tiffannie (with an ie) was the leader of the popular waitress clic. They were like Heathers who served 1/2 price munchies. Tiffanie (with an ie) looked like a linebacker with a Jersey Shore tan and perm. Tiffanie (with an ie) organized bar hops and assigned side work duties. Get on her bad side and you would be stuck marrying ketchup bottles for hours after your shift ended while everyone else was doing shots. She hated me and encouraged others to feel the same. It was no accident that I ended up serving the “regulars” who ate ten rib baskets before complaining about the meat’s temperature to get a free meal. If I was lucky those bastards would leave a 50 cent tip.

I survived these shifts from hell because of Tiffany (with a y). We laughed a lot back then and still do today. Tiffany (with a y) brought her kids to my house this morning. We sat at the kitchen table for hours in hysterics. She shares everything with me and vice versa. Our kids were surrounded by toys and video games, but got bored every few minutes. “I need a drink.” “Can you help me build Legos.” “I have to use the potty.” “Do you know what”….(followed by completely random thought.)
You won’t read this on Pinterest, but sometimes moms just want a little damn peace and quiet. It is too stressful to gossip while playing Barbies.

We decided to take the kids outside to run around. The older boys piled in the trampoline and we planted ourselves in plastic patio chairs. Could we really get ten uninterrupted minutes alone? Tiffany (with a y) was mid sentence, telling a riveting story when a heaping pile of sand landed smack on her face. Grains of sand glistened in her auburn hair. My 3-year-old shouted gleefully, “It’s raining sand!” Tiffany (with a y) had sand down her shirt and in her mouth. We looked at each other and instantly burst out laughing. A true friend can laugh with you through the good times and bad. Even if it means driving home with sand in the crevices of your body.

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One Response to Sand storm

  1. Andrea says:

    Aww, that’s so sweet! You know she hates your kid, right? Tiffanie would tell you so. Y chick is better than that.

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