guest-blogging

I'm guest-blogging this week on my friend Angie's blog. Since, let's face it, nobody really wants to hear about me on Angie's blog, I arranged to have her friends write memories and post pictures as a sort of group collage of collective Angie-memories and goodness.

It has been fun because Angie is so well-loved. People have really strong feelings about Angie. She's like the PBS Pride & Prejudice--people form fierce emotional attachments to her (especially girls), go out of their way to spend time with her and feel lucky when they do, find her warm and intelligent but also funny, go to her for comfort and always come away feeling better and inspired and believing in love. The difference is, there's no contingency who's like, But maybe I like the Keira Knightley version better. Everyone agrees they love Angie the best.

Following are some of my favorite impressions of Angie. Check out the others (or add one of your own) at Angie's blog, Cheerios.

Name: Lane Anderson
Has known Angie for: 9 years
Met her: In Provo, Utah

I remember the first thing that struck me about Angie was her long hair, which fell just like the hair in shampoo commercials. She was always warning people not to get their hair "slithered." Apparently, this was a bad cutting technique that had been used at one time on her beautiful hair.

I remember one time while I was breaking up with a boyfriend over the phone, Angie slipped a Reese's peanut butter cup under my door.

I remember Angie does a dance combination that starts with her back to the audience and one knee popped, with some increasingly frenetic jazz-hand moves, culminating in a sudden turn toward the audience into some mean jazz-squares.

I remember "Sales Talk Angela." Angie had a real job, not like the rest of our crap college jobs, and hers required her own phone line and a fax machine (fax machine!) installed in our basement. I remember when she answered that phone she was all business.

I remember after college when "Sales Talk Angela" used her professionalism to get us out of trouble with cops who caught us toilet-papering. This was despite the fact she was driving a 10-passenger van full of people wearing black clothes and various costume wigs.

I remember Angie is competitive but never mean, which makes her fun at games or playing tricks on people.

I remember Angie didn't like the same girl I didn't like once. I remember liking that even though she seemed perfect, she was capable of not liking some people.

I remember when I had nightmares I would go downstairs and sleep in Angie's room on the extra bed. She didn't care, even if I woke her up.

I remember I moved to California and fell in love with it and stayed there, all because one summer Angie insisted I come live with her family.

I remember meeting Angie's mom and picturing her as the sun of wisdom that radiated onto Angie's planet. I remember knowing I would never absorb it myself, their wisdom was the kind of gift that's passed-down or pre-destined, like clairvoyance.

I remember Angie's mom and dad dancing in the living room together after dinner, and hoping desperately that someday I would be in love like that.

I remember Angie often saying, "But how are you doing? How is Lane doing?"; trying to get a real response. She has no use for superficial chatter.

I remember Angie always knows the correct response to a tearful or tender moment. She seems to think not in what she should say, but what she should do--put an arm around, cry with you, laugh with you--her gift is in the small, intimate gestures that allow people to feel.

I remember Angie applying SPF 45 sunblock, laying in the sun, and then asking, "Did I get a tan?" She didn't. We teased her and called her SPF 45 "tan enhancer." I remember the last time I saw Angie her skin still looked as young as it did nine years ago.

I remember Angie is afraid of animals.

I remember staying with Angie in New York when I was thinking about going to grad school there and I was so scared to move. I remember eating peanut butter spread and apples. I remember watching a movie with her while James napped. I remember finding MarieBelle together. I remember I thought I could live in the city if Angie was there.

I remember Angie loved Zora Neale Hurston so much that she resented other people who said they loved her, but didn't really seem to get her.

I remember thinking my children would be better off if Angie raised them, and I don't even have any children.

I remember the first time I felt really, really rip-my hair-out, turn-off-the-lights-and-wait-to-die desperate and confused, the first person I thought to call, after my mom, was Angie.

I remember Angie had a green fabric-covered headband with little googly frog-eyes that stuck out on top of it. It looked like part of a frog costume, but she wore it around the house and while she was getting ready for bed. I made fun of it, but it was really comfortable, and after a while I started wearing it, too. Sometimes I would forget and leave the house wearing it and people at the bank or drive-up or wherever would smile like I was playing a joke on them, and then I would remember the frog eyes.

I remember Angie gave me the frog eyes to keep. They are sitting in my bathroom right now. Just last week I was in a bad mood about something, and my husband put them on to cheer me up. It worked.