Clarke-mas

>

Ewbliette and I have been friends since college when we met at an on-campus work study job. One overcast day, we were monotonously filing GRE scores when the subject of a mutual acquaintance’s suicide came up. The young woman ended her life by running a car in her mother’s garage. Since I was friendly with the girl before she switched to Ewbliette’s high school, I had a clear impression of her. She was a dramatic, but very popular person. So I asked Ewbliette, "God, where were her friends?"

Ewbliette replied, "Well, they certainly weren’t in her garage." Shocked by her own candor, her eyes widened (was she formulating an apology?). Before she could comment, I laughed. And laughed a little bit more. The world is too terrible to do anything but laugh when you can.

We became instant best buddies, now and then sneaking off early from work to drink mudslide cocktails behind A mountain. I wish I had a tape recorder--our afternoons were so hilarious. As a matter of fact, she is one of the funniest people I have ever met. She has more than mere wit, she has an uncanny knack for absurd observations and incongruous connections. Salvador Dali meets Mitch Hedberg.

I remember overnights at Ewbliette’s with great fondness. I lived at home (cheaper) and was therefore awed by the idea of having a place to yourself. The smell of her home was a mixture of "somebody might have smoked here once, long ago" and books. If you walked through her door, you would have the sensation that you were in a well loved but overlooked bookstore. The only thing missing was a string of bells on the door handle. Funny, even today I always leave her place with an armful of books. Old habits die hard.

After graduation, Ewbliette’s work relocated her several times throughout the country. Ultimately, she said, "Screw this," and returned to New Mexico. Once again, she lives in an awesome place--an authentic adobe home in a historic settlement just outside of city limits. As if that is not cool enough, her neighbors raise roosters. Roosters! I love, love, love, the racket they make! Perhaps I could attribute my affection to the countless pleasant evenings I’ve spent listening to them crow.

Aside from gobbling nachos and gabbing endlessly on her back porch, the two of us do the usual girl stuff--lunch, dinner, movies, and shop, shop, shop. In general, we get stares because we are too loud, too happy, and too silly. When we are not scandalizing various sales associates with our outrageous commentary or deafening fellow restaurant patrons, we cast runes, review tabloids, take long spontaneous drives, and discuss the evils of spiders. Everybody should have a friend like Ewbliette!