Bert & Ernie

Back in high school, Bren and I were inseperable. Where there was one, there was always the other. And rarely did you ever hear anyone speak our names without pronouncing them together. If one of us was absent from school, all the other would hear all day was, "Where's Stace?" or "Where's Bren" all the while patiently waiting the day out to end.

Bren has always been Bert to my Ernie. And there's no one who has known me better or known me more than anybody else in this entire world.

Which doesn't mean she didn't occasionally give away a random secret such as in our last will and testament when she decided to share my mistaken use of a sweater defuzzer as a leg shaver ... What can I say, I was young and naive.

But with a trick or two up my own sleeve, I always managed to break even and wasn't above taking a drive down memory lane, humming away as I did, "Memories, all alone in the moonlight ..." with a little impiish grin on my face.

No one has been a better friend to me in the past 20 years, despite the fact that we both often border on the somewhat disfuntional side as well as the fact that she happens to be blond, left handed and polish. Her words, not mine.

We graduated together, we went to college together - neither of us ever managing to get degrees ... We were pregnant together - Bren being the first person I called, along with my What To Expect When You're Expecting book to figure out that yes, my water had broke and going to the hospital might just be a good idea, right after I shaved my legs first.

And we both became single Moms, when our respective significant others chose girlfriends in favor over wives or wives to be. And from there, well the list could be a mile long of everything we've done and everything we've still left to do.

So Bren ... You needn't ever worry about your place in my life. There's no one else that I plan on becoming an old bitter woman with, other than you.

Canes a ready!