Archive for May 21, 2009

Redeeming Qualities

Why are certain people in your life? Why have you let them in? Probably because they add something to your life that wasn’t there without them. Right? You make a new friend because that person adds joy to your life. You like their company. You have fun with them. They make you want to be a better person. Hopefully the majority of your relationships are healthy and selfless like that. I’d bet there are a few people in your life that don’t bring as many benefits. Maybe you are just friends with a guy because your wife gets along with his wife. Or maybe you work together so you have a professional work-friendship even though you have nothing in common.


When my friend Lyndsey and I first met, we weren’t friends. I joined an organization at UT and she was an officer. We saw each other a lot but weren’t really friends. Not really sure why. Maybe it was a case of “I hate her because I want to be her” on both sides. It only took us a couple months to realize we should be friends. And, I’ll be honest, it was a selfish friendship at first. I wanted to be friends with her for 3 main reasons. (1. She’s hot. And who doesn’t want hot friends?! 2. She’s funny. 3. She’s tall. It’s hard to be friends with tiny people when you’re tall… I feel like a beast!) I didn’t really think we’d become great friends. I thought we’d go to baseball games together and joke around when we saw each other at events. And I was okay with that. I had a hot, tall, funny friend. Who wouldn’t be okay with that?! I’m not sure why Lyndsey decided she wanted to be my friend. Maybe it was so I’d wake her up in time for meetings. Or because I laughed at her jokes and understood her sarcasm. I don’t know. Whatever the reason, we became friends. In case you’re curious, Lyndsey now falls into the “best friend” category. She was in my wedding. I plan to be in hers one day (I hope you plan for me to be in your wedding too, Lyndsey!) I’m considering having a baby just to bribe her into moving to Houston.


All of that to say that sometimes we like people for selfish reasons. We get something from them so we welcome them into our lives… even if we previously could care less.


Last night I went to the grocery store to get a few of the necessities for our weekend with the Johnsons. I headed over to the milk area. Standing in front of the Whole Milk door was a little Indian woman with a toddler screaming in her cart. No worries, I’m a 1% milk girl, a whole two doors down from her. I’ll just sneak in, pretend I don’t hear the blood-curdling cries, and grab my milk. As my arm (and head) are in the fridge, reaching down to pick up the perfect gallon, I’m struck. No, not with a brilliant idea. With a door. The very door I just opened to get my milk. This woman had backed herself and her cart into my door with as much force as a bull running toward a waving red sheet. Okay, okay. Or maybe with as much force as a tiny Indian woman taking a few backward steps. Regardless, I was hit on the head with a door. And when you’re bending over, any sort of force is hard to take. She mumbled some sort of embarrassed apology and ran off. I knew we wouldn’t be friends.


I continued to go through my shopping list. I see “creamer”…crap.  I made my way back to those dreaded glass doors and guess who is standing there. Yep, my non-friend. Her son is no longer in her cart… I look around and see him running down the candy aisle with dad. I stand in front of the creamers, reading all the names. When I chose the tastiest looking one, I brace the door open with my shoulder, making sure to keep my head far from it. As I back up, creamer in hand, there she is. Standing uncomfortably close to me. (In case you didn’t read yesterday’s post, I don’t like physical touch… so the threat of physical touch makes me nervous.) I’m sure she didn’t mean to sneak up on me. She doesn’t know that my left eye doesn’t work properly. I’m sure she doesn’t read my blog. How dare her… I told you we could never be friends! (Get to the point Chelsea.) Okay, so I look at her to see what she needs. Maybe she wants me to bend back over so she can close the door on me again. No, that’s not it. “Um, come here?” Her broken English was kind of cute. I walk with her to another door. “Land O’Lake. Large?” she says as she’s point up. I look up and on the very top row (about my eye level!) is some carton of something with the name “Land O’Lakes.”


I handed her the carton and realized that even though she previously didn’t care about me, she now wants me to be her tall friend. Hey, I’ll take what I can get.

May 21, 2009 at 11:28 am 4 comments


May 2009


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