Update on earlier news and new news, too.

It’s been a while since I first shared my excitement over selling some pieces to a publisher for a gift book. Today I made my final edits on the edits that were done on my originals. So . . . this book may be about to happen! Fun. I like the way the stories turned out. The two editors I worked with were cool, and we got along well. All our correspondence was through e-mail, so I guess I don’t really know how cool they are in person . . . but as editors, they were nice.

Now I’m going to tell you about the GFF. I’m not going to tell you what GFF stands for (and hopefully Luke will keep his trap shut), because I already suffer tremendous grief from my family about this. Mockery flows like milk and honey over here. And besides, “GFF” wasn’t my idea in the first place. Yeah. So, anyway, the GFF is a group of friends. We’ve all known each other more than 20 years, and some of the relationships go back much further. (One GFFer happens to be my sister, and I’ve known her for 43 years.)

Most of these relationships solidified in college. Then we all started getting married, and then having children. Our families have kinda grown up together. Even though we don’t all live in the same town, most of us live within a couple hour’s drive of each other. Well, a number of years ago, Jill (who is a GREAT planner!) started planning parties for all these families. Then she started planning trips. Some of the trips are for whole families, but some are only for the GFF (the women in the group).

I am more than happy to leave all the planning to Jill, and she is a rare talent, let me tell you. But I have to admit that sometimes I am quite amused by what I find myself doing. (e.g., DollyWood . . . “Country Tonight” [a live variety show in Gatlinburg] . . .) So. This October, the GFF rides again . . . again. And group e-mails have been flying around discussing the trip. I have offered my insights and comments along with the other girls, and for some reason, the suggestion arose that we adopt the motto: “Let’s Be Nice.” (Oh man . . . these people crack me up!) Surely this has nothing to do with my cynical observations. Surely not.

Part of the problem this year lies in the fact that our two sweetest members aren’t going on the trip. They’re the kind of ladies who never raise their voices, and always have something nice to say or some act of service to perform. I openly admit that sweetness is not one of my virtues. My whole life I’ve marveled at sweet people, and I’ve always known I was not among their number. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not mean . . . I’m just spicy. A person can choose to be nice, but sweet is something you’re either born with or without. I was born without. And I don’t think that’s bad. I mean, think about it. If we were all sweet . . . I mean really sweet, soft-spoken, sugar-coated, mild-mannered, touchy-feely, ooshy-gooshy . . . what would happen to this world? Mercy!

Yeah. So they’re all saying our motto is “Let’s Be Nice” and I am laughing at them. In their faces. I can’t help it. Just wait, though. We’re going line dancing at the Wild Horse Saloon in Nashville this year, and then they’ll all be my best friend. They’ll all want to stand right beside the girl who laughed at their motto. (Note: we make up a new verse to our little, er, chant or, uh, song — yeah, we actually have one of those, whatever it is — every year, and one girl already said we should put something about “nice” in it. I asked if we could also put something about “barf bags” in it. So, yeah. You see the dynamic at work here.)

The truth is I love these people. They are amazing, faithful friends, and I am so thankful for great opportunities to be with them. I suppose I really should try to go along with the whole “Let’s Be Nice” motto. If I must mock, I can at least try to do so with enough concealed sarcasm that they won’t realize it. Yes. I’ve decided I’m turning over a new leaf. From now on I will no longer laugh in their faces. I’ll just do it behind their backs.