I have this friend....and I really like her. I hope she likes me, but truthfully, if I were her, I probably wouldn't like me. We have been neighbors for five years, we go to the same church, yet every single time I see her - I call her Jamie. Which, by the way, is not her name. Her name is STACY. She's one of those girls who is just so darned cute and crafty and funny that I can't seem to understand why I get her name wrong every SINGLE time! There are those people whose names you try not to say because you're not sure of them...so you kind of avoid the name part of the conversation - are you following? The ones who you always refer to as YOU...
"How are YOU?"
"What have YOU been up to?"
She's not one of those at all - I very casually and blatantly call her the wrong name.
"Hey JAMIE! What's up?! Oh, crap - your name is NOT JAMIE! What is WRONG WITH ME?!"
This is always how our conversations start, and I hate myself for it. I genuinely adore her, enjoy spending time with her, and want to see her more often.
Just today, I ran into her at the store - called her Jamie - apologized my guts out, then told my kids to say goodbye to Jamie. That's not a joke.
I am a horrible, horrible person - but Jamie, ah dang it--- I mean Stacy, I hope you'll still be my friend even though I am a huge flake.
BDEM: Today I played basketball - okay, H.O.R.S.E. against my friend Sara. I haven't played since, oh - maybe fifth grade (Until Tim Szatko broke the family hoop and casually said, "I think I have to go home now." ....remember that, family?!) Anyway - it was a blast. I love being terrible at basketball.