I'm in Anchorage with Alana. I'm putting her on an airplane to Saipan in 20 minutes. She needed someone to drive her to Anchorage and I was the one whose life was the least complicated at the moment, if you can believe that. So I was at her beck and call. I told her this too shall pass so she shouldn't get used to it. But she is loving having me around to be her her personal shopper at Value Village, chauffeur, sherpa and pre-trip angst therapist. I am going above and beyond my usual job duties of best friend and she is going to owe me a gazillion hours of free daycare for this. Just kidding.
I know a gazillion is not a number. Neither is a br---llion. I have this fantasy of writing a children's book called "A br---llion is not a number". But I can't tell you what the number is because I don't want anyone to steal my idea and make a br---llion bucks off of my idea before I do. I can tell you that I have a good friend who is going on a trip to South America and he promised to get me a picture of a Br---llion" for my book. (Oops! I've told you too much!) When I asked him, he said, "You mean like the wax job? I'll have to ask my wife." I said, "No! I mean a person!". Then he said, "Male or female? With or without feathers?" What a crack-up! I love that guy!
You know, one of the things that has always saved me from my chronic depression and existential crisis is my ability to surround myself with funny and fun-loving people. A mutual friend of ours was concerned about Alana and I getting into a downward spiral together. But it's like this: there seems to be a finite amount of depression between the two of us. When one of us is depressed, the other one somehow manages to rally and become the upbeat one. When we are not commiserating about our misery, we are cracking each other up! It works for us and it's better than any medication in the sample cabinet at my work place!