So, I have this friend. Maybe you’ve heard of her? And maybe you’ve heard that she’s got some pretty big news?

Before the big news, Casey and I had our first date enclosed in a car for four-ish hours. By ourselves. That’s a sink or swim type of situation, folks.

We swam.

Well, to be fair, she did most of the swimming and a fair amount of pulling me along until I was able to stop over thinking long enough to start kicking (this swimming metaphor is getting a bit out of hand, apologies). And, as I’ve learned, that’s one of the great things about Casey. She’ll make you swim and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

Unfortunately, she got me at kind of a bad time. 2010 was not my greatest and I struggled a lot.  At being a friend, at getting through the everyday, at just being a human. But she stuck around anyway and in our relatively short friendship she has encouraged me to write, supported me in my photography, seen me at my lowest points, held my hand when I got my tattoo and even shared her fancy new tempurpedic bed (she’s a married woman and we just napped, minds out of the gutter people!) with me.

Last week, when Emily unveiled her amazingly awesome plan of awesomeness I told Casey to be showered and have her legs shaved for me today. I found out yesterday that the way to slowly kill Casey is with surprises. Heh.

My darling friend, I could not be happier that you will soon welcome another teeny, tiny, snuggly piece of your heart into this world. I am so, so excited for you and Cody and Addie. You’ve enriched my life and my vocabulary (Frillion. Fruffly. Snuzzly. PLEASE NO THANK YOU!) and I’m so grateful to have you in my life.


Dude, we need more pictures together.

People can say what they like about the internet, but it brought me you and it doesn’t get much more awesome than that.

I’m headed your way with fiber optics that will blow your mind and then you, Addie and I are going to get our toes painted. By professionals. (I KNOW!)



9 thoughts on “Cordoza

  1. You’re lucky all my lamps are either too big and awkward to throw or too special to throw.

    That’s all I’m saying.

    Well, that and I love you madly.

    You’ve helped me swim when I wanted to sink far more often that you’ll ever realize.

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