Let me preface this post with it’s nothing personal. Seriously. I don’t know enough about Michigan to despise its complete existence. Afterall, so many good things have come from it like the birth of the automotive industry, Motown, recreational boating, lyricists like Eminem and Kid Rock… not hating on it.
But at this very moment, I’m not a fan. Of Michigan. The state. Because it’s stealing one of my favorite people in the world.
Boo Michigan, boo.
So the girl formerly known as The Disappointer (Mel apparently didn’t get a kick out that), walks in the room on Saturday and it automatically brightens. And so I start a game of 20 questions.
“Did you win big at the track yesterday?” No.
“Did you bring your Hawaii pictures?” No.
“Ooooh, is that Hawaiian pineapple in that tub?” No.
“Jeez Mel, you’re just full of disappointments today.”
Mel replies, “Then I guess you don’t want to hear the big news.”
My brain automatically goes to “baby” but she wouldn’t tell me good news like that. Not baby news at least. Of course, I was right. Disregard thoughts of puppies and rainbows, be prepared for dropping bombs:
“We’re moving to BFE, Michigan. In June.”
Gah. Let the flood gates open.
Look at that face. How could I not miss a face like that?
Ladies and gents, Interwebz of mankind, I don’t deny the fact that I’m emotional (I’m known to cry) but I did not expect to ruin my lovely eye make-up that early in the day. On Derby Day at that. I’d heard the whispers of a move to Nashville but I avoided the topic like the plague, practiced earmuffs whenever Thurmeo talked about work. If I ignore it, it won’t happen, right? Not true.
But Michigan? MICHIGAN?!? Again, I hiss boo to you, Mitten State.
Cooking with My Mel is history. Spending too much at the outlet mall in Edinburgh is a distant memory. UFC fight nights and rounds of Catch Phrase… oh how I’ll miss those rounds of beating the mens at Catch Phrase. No blackberry pickens at Huber’s Orchard this summer. The fairy dust is finally beginning to settle in that kitchen of hers. *tear*
So this means I have 50 or so days to get my fill of Melanie so that I’ll be okay with her departure. And somehow I’m going have to figure out how to get my lame self up to the middle of Michigan to visit. But until it gets here, I’ve decided I’m not going to talk about it any more. I’ve got more important things to focus on. Like sending them off in style.