An Open Letter: Thank you for being a friend.

Do you have any friends that have been in your life so long you don't even remember when you met or why you became friends in the first place? That's how I feel about a couple of my friends. Including my friend.... Cody.

Or, JB as I refer to him (and he answers to).

He's my friend, Rachel's, little brother and he's just as good a friend to me as he is a brother to her. He's such a good friend of mine that I even took him to my Senior prom (because Rachel forbade it and we do what we want).

Hilariously enough, we didn't even take a picture together before/during/after prom, BUT I took a picture of him and his future wife (they weren't together then, but they're married now!), who also happens to be an old friend of mine, so we basically did everything right and now it just adds to the list of our inside jokes.

Speaking of inside jokes, he's privy to quite a few of mine.... and in fact, even knows what "it's just too late for all that" means (and won't tell). Every time we talk, one of us HAS to bring that up and it's usually HIM. And to say that we've been through alot together would be the most vast understatement of the century.

I don't remember the exact moment that JB and I became friends, but I'm sure it was somewhere around the fourth candybar that we shared (because Twix are delicious) while watching the Evil Dead/Wishmaster for the hundredth time. He always understands my Bruce Campbell references and can usually finish my sentences. (And we totally rock out to Guns 'n Roses).

I'm sure if we thought about our friendship long enough we could probably pretty accurately compare it to that movie Stand By Me (without that whole dead body/leeches thing).... or at the very least, Fried Green Tomatoes (you know, aside from that whole getting hit by a train thing).

No matter the situation, he always has my back (and I, his).

For all of the amazing qualities that make you one of my very favorite people, I say, thank you, JB.

Thank you for sticking up for me and telling that boy he was an idiot when he made me cry. Thank you for carrying me up that giant hill, because there was no way that I could have walked up it myself at the time.... and for making it all the way up that hill with solid perfection and then dropping me on a coffee table, because that is one of my very favorite stories to tell. Thank you for always telling me that my hair looked good, even though we both knew you were lying and for finding the perfect girl to marry and have babies with and giving me partial credit for it (I love you, guys!). For constantly bringing up old mishaps when somebody gets a little mouthy with me ("nooo..... it's just too late for all that!!").

And finally, thank you for being one of my very dearest friends. For making me laugh uncontrollably, listening to my constant rambling, and just loving me for being me. You're the best, JB. They don't make em like you anymore.

We're going to be moving.... again.

Almost five years ago I made a dramatic move (dramatic physically and emotionally, because hello I'm a girl and that's what we do) and left my childhood hometown (in the boondocks) to move Momma back to her home state. Things we're crazy and hectic and life seemed all over the place.

We lived with two of my uncles for about a year and a half and then she and I got ourselves our apartment.... and only lived there for about a year. We were about six months into living in our apartment when my brother decided to flip his life upside down and move back in with us, so that in turn flipped our lives upside down (and yes, I sang that in the Fresh Prince's voice).

After finishing the lease out in our two-bedroom apartment we moved into a three-bedroom house. And we've been there for almost two years (our lease is up the beginning of October). But, now here we are, fixing to move.... again?

Why are we moving?

Well, when we moved into this house I made the comment that I wasn't moving again until I died, because I'm tired of it, it's hard, and I'm getting too old to be lugging boxes everywhere (no, I'm not old, but I'm dramatic). But.... I didn't realize that the house was going to start falling in on us and that our landlords would do NOTHING about it. Seriously, that's what happening. We call and report the things that are wrong with the house and they NEVER get back to us about any of it. And we've called MULTIPLE times.

Not long after we moved in (three to four months, maybe?) our furnace went out and I had to call and cuss and pretty much threaten to call the authorities, because they didn't want to fix it. They just wanted us to live with no heat.... and it was -6 degrees outside (29 degrees in the house). Do you know how pissed off it made me to have to threaten to call the authorities? I ain't ever called cops in my entire life and these bitches almost made me start.

Some of the other things going on with the house? Well, where would you like me to start?

Underneath the kitchen sink is going to have to be completely replaced, because every single pipe leaks and the sink itself is coming loose. The baseboards in our kitchen leak and when it rains/snows/etc we end up with standing water across the kitchen (I got up early the other morning and went into the kitchen and had to pull out my Risky Business moves, because I went sliding). The ceiling in our kitchen is coming, down, because of a major roof leak.... and so is the ceiling in the laundry room.... and the one in our bathroom. Speaking of the jacked up roof, shingles fly off with even the slightest whisper of wind. The steps on the front porch are not attached (at all). The bathroom sink is detaching from the wall. The caulk/molding in the shower is mostly gone. The toilet won't flush (and it's not a being clogged up problem) and the septic backs up into the front yard. Is that everything? No. Is that more than enough? It's too much.

So now, here we are. Playing the waiting game.

Unfortunately, there have been a lot of hiccups surrounding this entire thing, and we thought that we were just going to have to stay in the house we were in until we could find something better (and pay the ridiculous amount of money they wanted for a "month to month" lease instead of a "year long" lease).... but then one day, my Aunt Mary came to the house and insisted that we stay with her and my uncle for a couple of weeks, so we wouldn't have to live in the cruddy house and pay gobs and gobs of money to them. I was leary of it, because I hate asking people for help, (and I swore I'd never live with more family again) but she pretty much insisted and informed me that I didn't ask, it was her idea (because every woman in my family answers things the exact same way.... with sarcasm!) and now we're out of that house and staying with them (for just a few weeks) while we look at available houses.

And the moving process? Let's just say it was a long weekend.

Because it's just too good not to share.

I've We've talked about my ongoing battle with my hair a time or two.... right?! I always say that I'm going to grow it long and when it's long I hate it and want it short, but then I cut it short I hate it and want it to grow and.... do you see where I'm going with this? Do you see that I'm never satisfied with my hair? (Except one time when I was like, eighteen and had my favorite hairstyle that I've ever had.... another story for another day).

It's an ongoing battle that I've been fighting my entire life.... ever since my arch nemesis cut off one of my pigtails (yes, just one, and YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE). And honestly I can trace it back to that exact moment (and the little asshole that did it), but it only got increasingly worse as I got older and always toed the line between Wtf and #JeffFoxworthyHairDontCare. And while it's long now and I like the way it looks when I put effort into it, the truth is, I don't put effort in nearly enough (because eff that) and I end up with it piled on top of my head.

And that opens the door for a myriad of things including, but not limited to: headaches, pain, agony, and defeat (not to be dramatic or anything). Plus, I sometimes get my hair shut in my car door.... more often than I care to admit. And while it's curly and has a mind of it's own, I think I would miss it if I was to cut it short. Why?!

Well, I have a tendency to live more in my imagination then I do in actual reality, and I "feel" like I should have long hair. You know, because in all of the legendary love stories/books and movies that I insist on reading/watching, you never hear of the "long lost love" or "woman of the dreams" or "heroine of her own destiny" having short hair. You just don't. The only one that I can think of off the top of my head is Maggie Greene-Rhee and let's be honest, she's such a badass that you can't argue with her.

And while my sensibility tells me that's ridiculous and my inner "warrior woman" says that's foolish, I can't seem to compute that to my actual brain. I always think of cutting my hair and end up at, "what if?!" I know that shouldn't bother me, but it does. And if you think I'm as crazy as what I do, I get it, but just know.... EXPLAIN IT TO MY BRAIN AND MAKE IT UNDERSTAND, BECAUSE IT'S A JERK (and that's probably why that makes up at least 87% of my personality).

Also, doesn't society.... and your family/friends kind of make you feel like if you're female you should have long hair?!

I say all of this, because I don't know how to not ramble feel the need to tell you that when you have a lifetime full of "hair woes" you're bound to have some real "gems" hidden away in old pictures. (And so do your family and friends). And when I run across a really good one.... I have to share. So, without further ado, I give to you.... Katie and Amanda (and our friend from back in the day- Devo) at ten.... eleven? (twelve?). Something like that. We are truly the epitome of 90s kids.

This simply could not wait until Thursday.... Manda, there's no one else I would have rather survived my 1983 bangs and high waisted "mom" jeans with. 😂 9/4.

A post shared by Katie Hopwood (@kdhopwood) on Sep 4, 2017 at 4:45pm PDT

There are numerous advantages to being 53.... just ask any 83 year old.

Today is my Momma's 53rd (but if anybody asks, 25th) birthday. I'm so happy that I get to see her on this day and every day, because a couple of months ago I didn't know if I was ever going to get to celebrate another birthday with her. She's come a long way and her strength and perseverance is something that I marvel at daily. She truly is one of the strongest people that I have ever known and I'm very proud to call myself her daughter. 

While she always insists that no one make a "big deal" when it comes to her birthday, I make it a point to let her know how special she is to me every day. And whether she likes it or not, people want to celebrate this day with her (and all the other days, as well), because she really is just that great of a person.

Here's to you, Momma. It's your party.... and you can cry drink nap party do what you want to. I love you.

This beautiful lady right here turns 53 today. I couldn't be any luckier in the "Mom Department" if they tried. She is, hands down, the best mother, friend, and woman that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I love you more than you'll ever know, Momma. You're my best friend, mother, and most importantly, my heart. You're a bee charmer. ❤️ 9/20.

A post shared by Katie Hopwood (@kdhopwood) on Sep 20, 2017 at 3:39am PDT