An Ode to Barb

Ah, I missed my Barb.  I am now plotting to get her to move to Georgia and live on my street. That would work out nicely.

One of my favorite stories from the trip was when Barb and I were first having lunch, after having not seen each other for almost a year.  She looked over at me and exclaimed “your ring is a different color!”  I love that she knows me so well that she noticed I wasn’t wearing my normal right hand ring.  (I have two identical except for the stones rings.  I had my other one on.)  My mom is the only other person in the world who has noticed/mentioned that I have two different rings.

Barb also totally went out of her way to be nice to us on our vacation.  She met us on her days off when I am sure she’d rather be doing other stuff (not to say that she doesn’t like seeing me, I mean, who wouldn’t, but it wasn’t exactly totally convenient for her).

And the Dibits cried when we left Barb (who met me for lunch during her work lunch break on the last day we were there) and then called “Auntie Barb” on her pretend phone.

Anyway, my point is that she is MY Barb and you can’t have her.