Thanks Susan -- Part of the Thanks Giving Series

Susan and I have always said she has the other half of my brain, and I have the other half of hers. Very convenient, as when we do something half-witted there is always someone to share the blame.

When we met in school, we simply had to be friends. We had too much in common to not be. We were two farm girls in the big city, not that the city was all that big. We knew with a glance the internal dialogue that was running through the other's head when a professor did something ridiculous or a himbo made an ill-fated pass at one of our friends, or a himbo professor made a ridiculous, ill-fated pass at one of our friends.

We shared the same beliefs and challenges and endless hours of late-night studying over cheese fries and coffee at The Kettle. (It's a wonder we survived.)

Twelve years down the line, Susan is still one of my best friends. She's like a rock, never wavering. When a family health crisis turned my world a bit upside down a couple of years ago at Christmastime, she made sure I came to her house for Christmas dinner with her and her family. When I arrived, I wasn't a bit surprised to find her kitchen filled with all manner of people she had done the same sort of thing for. That's Susan.

So, here's to friendships that last a lifetime. Thanks Susan. I'll call you tomorrow.