The Measure of Friendship

We went this evening to have dinner with Drea from The Escape. ( Are you reading her yet? )  I knew we were friends when we made the crazed call to say, “We’re not coming after all.  We’re 5 minutes from your house and the 3 year old just threw up all over the back seat of the car.”

To which she calmly replied, “Why aren’t you coming?  It’s just puke.  I have clean clothes to put on him and a carpet shampooer.”

Sure enough, her husband met us outside the  house with the shampooer in hand and helped my sweet Computer Guy wipe down seats and clean the upholstery.  She had clean washcloths ready to wipe off the boy, and then offered my husband a beer and me a margarita.

See why we love them?