Are there any longtime readers in the crowd?

Of course there are. There would have to be. I mean, who wouldn't want to be reading my crap prose for nearly two years? I'm sure Google's servers get congested every time I put a new post up. They're going to start charging me or demanding I put some ads on my page or something.

Those of you who've been around for a while might remember my friend Fallout Girl. I cleverly named her that because we had a falling out which caused us to not be in the same Starbucks together for about two years. It was an awful time; I knew she frequented the coffee house closest to both of us, so I made a point of going to the second closest one, which was actually quite far. Then, when I added up how much gas I was using, I got up enough courage that I thought I could see her without either bursting into tears or taking off at a mad dash. However, I would do a drive by the store to see if she was in it before actually walking through the doors with my head down.

Eventually, I grew some ovaries and decided I needed to tell her I was sorry for my part in things. That I had acted immaturely and selfishly, and that I wanted nothing more than for her to know that I regretted what I had done.

Isn't that big of me? I know. I astound myself daily with my wisdom and acts of bravery. I'd like to believe that somewhere in the world there is a shrine of Maven, where people go to meditate and ask for guidance.

(If there is a shrine of Maven, it's probably an cork board covered in creepy monochrome print-outs of my internet pictures with holes in the eyes. I somehow think that's more likely. Terrifying, but more likely.)

Just as I was patting myself on the back for how amazingly mature I was, Fallout Girl not only accepted my apology, but wrote an even more compelling letter, disolving me into a puddle of crying mess. Bitch stole my thunder.

So Fallout Girl's name is actually Emely, and she's way cooler than I am (but don't tell her that because she'll rub it in my face). We've rebuilt this friendship from the ground up and have made it stronger, better, faster, longer.

Wait. No. That's a Kanye song.

Em and I have so much in common, and although very busy schedules have kept us apart more than we'd like, when we see each other it's like we never left the lawn chairs. We laugh, we cry, we're just our crazy old selves. I can tell her anything and know she'll still love me (I believe that's called "co-dependence" but we'll keep that hush-hush as well, alright?)

To put it simply, when I talk to her it's like the sun is shining a little brighter. She has a big spot in my heart.

Now here's the Oscar-worthy twist in the tale...

I just had to pause a minute to take a breath and wipe some tears, because writing it out is so hard: Em has been battling cancer for a few years and was in remission for quite some time. However, it's back with a vengeance and her prognosis is not good. Really not good.

I think you know what I mean.

I told Em that every two or three days I have a little cry about it. When I saw her this morning I said I was about due. I've just changed the sign to read '0 Days Without An Incident'. Dammit.

The positive side to this is that she's doing what we all should be doing: She's living life to the fullest right now with honesty and humour and vigor. How many of us can truly say that?

That's right: Only me and Em. So let us lead you by example and get on the happy train.

I'm just trying to steal some thunder back.

I've been asking myself how I can help her when she needs it most. What can I do for her as her friend and a fellow mom of three? There are so many things, big and small. I think I'll figure it out as time goes on, as her needs and those of her family change. But one thing I know I'm good at is making the girl laugh. She even likes my terrible blog. She tells me all the time, like one of those slutty groupies, just hanging off me and such.

... I wonder if she has a shrine? I haven't been down to her basement in a while. Do my pictures have eyes? Maybe I should check my hair for missing locks...

One of the things I promise to do is give her something to laugh about on a regular basis. I shall continue to blog several times a week in my ridiculously funny and talented way - not because I'm ignoring how sad I am, but because there's nothing better to laugh at than my life. It's almost tragic.

I encourage you to go read Emely's blog. Give her some love and support. I know I will.

Love you, my friend.