If you can't say something nice, come sit by me...

(Alice Roosevelt Longworth)

It's been bugging me, as the reviews for SATC-TM come rolling in. And finally, after ranting to dear Katy by IM, I realized what it is. Writers, columnists, are paid to think. So these people, who otherwise would ignore a topic they don't want to write about, HAVE to write something, because, you know, with all the hype around the Foursome from NYC/HBO it's like ignoring the fact that Tim Russert died last week, so since they can't think of anything nice to say and they have to think/write something, bile ensues.

I mean, you would think it was the coming of the anti-Christ, to read some of these reviews. You won't have to Google very far to find them.

Which I find disappointing. I would much rather a column say, "You know what, I think my neighbor/sister-in-law/best friend is CRAZY for loving that show, the movie, but it's not my cup of tea." But that, my friends, is not what sells newspapers. And it makes me kind of sad, because I have seen a petty side of some columnists that I didn't realize was there. A "let me stomp on the party" quality that I didn't notice before. A nit-picky, mean spirited side.

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A while ago, I let go of a friend who let go of me. We had drama that was both of our faults--I pushed some buttons that I didn't know were there, she pushed some too. We have not been friends for almost a year. I miss her. But not enough to pick up the phone.

What I don't miss: her disapproval of my choices of reading: she didn't think Christians should read Harry Potter or the Narnia books. I never would have admitted to her that I even watched SATC on TBS, much less the unedited DVDs or the movie. If someone said something to her, she wrote them a letter. If someone did something she disapproved of, she wrote them a letter. When I stepped on the wrong toe, she wrote me a letter.

We had fun together, and her nieces and nephews were kids that we could play house with, take to parks...we were single together, and we loved to laugh. We prayed together--and a friend you can pray with is worth a lot. But I learned something from that friendship. It is so easy to judge. I'm trying to measure my words out, so that it doesn't sound like I'm judging her--she is a smart, beautiful woman. She is. But she is wounded, and in her wounded places, she pounces.

I do that too. This post is my pounce. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte, they are my girls. Mistakes, they have made. But they are beautiful inside. Their friendship for each other is worth more than any peek at all the shoes, couture, cute men. One of the things I loved about SATC-TM was how Samantha became maternal. She watched out for Miranda when Steve admitted to cheating. She was the one who said to Carrie, "you have to eat something," when Carrie hadn't eaten in a whole day, had just slept for almost two days in the dark room at the Mexican not-her-honeymoon locale. When Carrie said, "I'm tired," Samantha said, "eat something, and then you can go back to sleep." Samantha spoon fed Carrie what looked like vanilla yogurt. It was so tender. So gentle. It was practical love, the kind that rolls up its sleeves and says, I'm helping you, just open your mouth. And laughter--these women know when to laugh. When something is really funny. If this movie had been about four women in Pittsburgh who ate at the Quiet Storm, who wear threads from Goodwill and go to the Open Door, it would have been good. I would have gone to see it. But it would not have been the same movie.

I know this will shock many people, but I walked out of the first Lord of the Rings movie TWICE. It didn't touch or inspire me. I do think my friends/sister/co-workers are a little nuts to love those movies. But I still love them (my friends, not the movies) dearly. And they love me, even if they never understand why I love SATC. Thankfully, I am not a critic, so I didn't have to analyze why LOTR didn't touch or inspire me, I was able to go on with my life and think about other things. Which is what I will do now. Hmm, I think I'll brush my teeth. And tomorrow I might start the third Chicks with Sticks book. Life is good.