Friends are like the sweet cream frosting on top of a red velvet cake; they make everything that's already good even that much more delicious. And then they induce a bowel movement. But they are so worth the trouble, no?
As I've often said, I look for mutual adoration in every relationship. That's the best foundation; after that, a person's political opinion and how often they agree with me don't matter as much.
Recently some good friends came to visit. Scott McMullen* and Husband went to high school together. Their friendship began back when they both had hair and joints that didn't ache after five minutes on the basketball court. Despite the Bush presidency's best efforts to break them apart, Scott and Husband remained friends.
Since the McMullens were coming to Tampa to enjoy a few days at Busch Gardens, Husband suggested they stay with us.
At first, I panicked.
"These are proper people," I said. "I've never heard his wife utter one curse word and our kids learned 'em all by the time they were two. Plus we're all on a diet. I can't cook when there aren't dietary restrictions in place. Take away pasta and garlic bread, all I've got to work with is rice and black beans."
"What's wrong with rice and black beans?" Husband asked.
"Black beans for dinner? Both nights they're here? That's four adults, four children and only two bathrooms. You do the math."
If you knew Scott and his family, you might wonder out loud how mild-mannered, Christian conservatives could visit with manic, loud, agnostic Jews. But it didn't turn out so bad. Despite Scott's panic attack in the shower when he thought he saw a hidden camera, the visit went off without a hitch.
Here's how we made it work:
We removed all porn from the magazine racks. And by "porn," I mean Rolling Stone.
We paid our children five bucks each not to bring up offshore oil drilling, women's basketball or Michael Moore.
Of course, it bears mentioning that Oldest, unsupervised and obviously off meds, brought up Bill Clinton and how he presided over the greatest period of economic prosperity since World War II. Color me embarrassed because I did not see that one coming. Kids say the darnedest things.
Now where was I? Oh yes…how we made our drastically different guests feel comfortable:
For 48 hours, I stopped flossing my teeth in the living room.
We never referred to Scott's mid-'80s 'do as "pretty lady hair."
Husband deleted Slayer and Melissa Etheridge songs from Rock Band. But I didn't let him add Toby Keith. Even I have standards.
Youngest moved the Karl Rove and Ronald Reagan dolls, with Fidel Castro beards and voodoo needles, into the storage closet with all our Sean Penn movies.
Of course, we aren't perfect and couldn't foresee everything. For example, I couldn't quiet the neighbor's dog, who barked all night, or stop myself from drinking enough wine to kill a Baptist.
Still, I got Scott's wife to laugh a few times without crossing herself.
And that, my friends, counts for something.
*Names have been changed to protect lifelong friendships. Read more Catherine Durkin Robinson at dailyloafblog.com and on her blog, OutInLeftField.com.
This article appears in Jun 17-23, 2010.