Kim and Chigiy each have two boys the same age. They both love writing, surfing and yoga. Chigiy and Kim grew up in the same town and went to the same schools, the schools that their boys now attend. They have so much in common they thought they might have to become lesbians, leave their husbands and live in a house by the sea. Instead Kim and Chigiy decided to write a blog.
Yes, they have much in common but there are differences:
Kim’s Victorian house is like a beautiful Louis XV Museum. Kim is like one of those museum guards making sure that everything is in its place. God help you if you move her pink velvet tufted “Bubblicious” bench or her vase of perfect orchids.
Kim is constantly cleaning and purging. She keeps her home free of clutter and her wardrobe updated with the latest fashions. Her style is boutique St Tropez surfer girl chic. Who pays $300 for a pair of bejeweled seahorse sandals?
Chigiy also lives in a Victorian. A museum it’s not. Chigiy is forever battling dust bunnies and dog fur that build up around her collection of ’80s clothes. It’s not that Chigiy’s a slob but who else gets fired by their house cleaner? Thanks to Doggie Heaven Hotel, Chigiy’s person and home is constantly covered with a fine layer of canine fur in a cornucopia of colors.
Chigiy’s friends call her Schleprock, simply because it’s just hard for Chigiy to make it through the day without getting hurt. We’re not talking minor injuries.
She was almost fatally bitten by a rattlesnake, routinely gets attacked by rambunctious canines, face plants on daily runs. She slipped on kelp, dropped her surfboard on her head and cracked her ribs.
Chigiy is very frugal. She is the Queen of Craig's List. Kim adores overpriced boutiques.
Chigiy tries to tell Kim she would love DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse) but Kim would rather walk barefoot across the Sahara than slum for crappy shoes with the masses. Give her Prada or give her death.
Once Chigiy is your friend, she is true blue. You could call her from a Tijuana jail cell at 3 a.m. and she'd hop in her piece of crap Beverly Hills bunkin'mobile R.V. and hightail it down, bail money in hand—no questions asked.
Kim gets away with things that most people can’t. She eats at restaurants and she asks for things. “Could I please have a smidge more blood orange lemonade in my Arnold Palmer?” “Can you put that extra mango chutney and pickled veggies in my to go container?” She has such a sweet demeanor, that she always gets added accruements. If Chigiy asked for something extra from the cook, she’d probably get his saliva.
Kim is a germaphobe. She says her ABCs when she washes her hands and would rather die than eat Ruffles from the communal chip bowl at a party. If Chigiy drops something on the ground she will pick it up and eat it if she doesn’t step on it first.
Kim likes to go out to lunch, order her food to go and then eat it at home. She loves going to movies but she hates sitting next to loud talkers, popcorn crunchers and grey hairs asking questions. It’s not unusual for her to change seats three or four times during a film. Going with Kim to dinner and a movie can be lonely.
Kim’s idea of hell would be to be forced to sit next to Chigiy’s husband, also known as “Old Yeller,” in a movie theater.
The most important similarity is that Chigiy and Kim find big adventures in small places and think that life is funny, even the sad, the unpleasant and especially the stupid. Their motto: Life without humor just wouldn’t be worth living.
