Ride Or Die

Five years ago last night was the last official night I spent living in Massachusetts. Well, I spent the night in NH, not Massachusetts. But. Five years, yo.

It was a complicated day at the end of a complicated week in Operation GTFO. Thankfully I blog in detail sometimes. 

Our car had died at the airport in Manchester NH when Doug flew up to help gather up a car load of things to drive back to Maryland. The original Operation GTFO plan was: 

• He was going to drive the car, the boy, the dog back to Maryland. 
• I was going to stay and meet the movers and get a lift to the train to the airport to Maryland and to the new life later that week. 

But the universe had an alteration in the fabric of our beautiful plan, and we had to pivot. The full aftermath of the events is in the entries linked here, from when I finally made it to Maryland and could sit down and write it out. 

Plan B enacted, we rented a car. Honestly of all the places for the car to die, the cel phone lot at an airport where there is a car rental building that you can just walk up to and rent a car at, what a blessing, how lucky. Beats the shit out of it dying on I-93. 

He loaded the car up, and took the boy, the dog, the things down to Maryland as planned, just in a different vehicle.  I waited for our beautiful wonderful mechanic Kevin (I miss him so much) to fix the boo boo car. 

I canceled my flight, waited for the car, got a ride to his garage, picked up the vehicle, and dealt with the adjustment. cool cool new plan cool.

Once the moving truck left, I was going to stay near Manchester NH that night, because I had a bunch of toys and things that I was giving to a friend for her little boy (shit, what is he now, 6 or 7?!). 

Jess went up with me to NH because why not, so then I had to drive them back to their apartment, and then I was not sure where to stay. 

But then.

Plans change again. C told me I should stay at her place. And I'm so glad I did. I got there so late. Her dogs were so happy to see me. I sat on the loveseat near the kitchen while they literally worshiped me, sitting on my feet and flopping all over the place. I still remember C mixing up white russians, and whipping out the waffle iron, and mixing up the mix, and making bacon, and just having this moment. 

My quote about it in the blog entry was: 

You know you have a good friend who makes you a cocktail and bacon & waffles at 11:30pm because she is worried that you did not eat.

And that, my friends, is the best kind of friend. 

C was recently on a trip and was talking to some people about our friendship. She used the term "Ride or Die" when talking about me, and the Europeans didn't know what that meant. 

Super funny how sometimes slang translates easily, and multiple cultures know what something is or means just by what it sounds like. Or, not. I used to think Tits Up was the same as Belly Up. I thought it meant someone wiped out and/or some situation was a total failure, so whatever the thing was ended up flat on its back with boobs were pointed at the ceiling. Like Belly Up refers to fish when they're dead. 

But Tits Up refers to airplane controls in WWII when the plane would be in failure, and the gauges would invert and fail, they'd flip over like a W to an M, and it looked like boobs pointing upward. Delightful. So that's pretty much where that comes from. But you can't help but thinking of someone wiping out, landing on their back, and their boobs pointing up now, can you? Or a fish, with boobs, kipping on its back.

"Ride or Die" indicates a Thelma and Louise feel to me. I know a lot of people use it all the time, and in my mind, it isn't something to utter lightly. No casual pal is a Ride or Die. You may be super close with someone but you don't want to take a big sip off your iced coffee, set it down, and then brawl with an entire Dunkin' Donuts with them. 

You may stand there, hold the iced coffee, and say "girl, please, let's just go outside and let it go." 

You're willing to hold hands and drive off a freaking cliff together with your ride or die. I guess you could also say Butch & Sundance, or Frodo & Sam too for examples of ride or die. 

Well. All these years later and "My Girl C" as I've referred to her many times is still one of the few people I'd drive off a cliff with. I can think of only a few others. And I love her. Looking back on Waffles & White Russians night, I'll remember it always. 

She probably hates this picture. But I do not. I think she is cute and I love her Newburyport sweatshirt from Richdales. We've got the ocean, and it was a beautiful day, and I realize we do not have enough pictures together. 

So we'll have to remedy that. Soon. 

digits

exercise: Dedicated 10+3. While cooking dinner, Doug went to get Geoff at the train and I managed to get a little walkabout inside as it is raining.

blood glucose:
9am: 201
5pm: 233
9:30pm: 171

food:
coffee, water
9:30am: apple
10:45am: 3 sticks of celery w/peanut butter
12:30pm: Metformin, 2 egg omelet w/2 slices of havarti and 2 slices of ham. Call it the HHH. Ham, Havarti, Huevos! 
5:30pm: Metformin+jardiance; bowl of mac & cheese with ground beef (probably gonna super break the blood glucose even worse!)
8pm: peanut butter & jelly on 647 bread (dinner was not satisfactory); gin and tonic