I have a friend named Carrie, and growing up, we were attached at the hip.  We both were and are very close to our sisters, but seeing that both of our closest oldest siblings were 8 to 9 years older than us, that required finding someone to play with.  Thus, I attribute part of our friendship to this reasoning.  Maybe it’s accurate, maybe it’s not.

Anyway, whenever I would talk to other people about my young life, I would inevitably bring up Carrie.  Since these people didn’t actually know her, I would unintentionally and habitually say, “You know my friend Carrie…”

Well, my friend Carrie came for a visit today, at my very own house.  This is particularly special ’cause she lives in the far-off, glorious state of Colorado AND this is her very first actual, sit-down visit to my aforementioned very own house.

We sat; we chatted (actually, we talked a mile a minute and still had tons left to say); we ate scones and drank iced coffee.  ‘Twas a very nice morning with my friend Carrie.