The Hindi Word For "Flirt" is Ishqbazi. Just ask Meridith.

Last week I tried a little Facebook experiment. Which is ironic, since, to this day, I have no idea what to do on Facebook. Only a week ago I found out that I have a "profile" section where I can go and read all of my old posts. I just assumed I wrote something and Facebook decided whether or not it was worthy of posting, because I never see anything after I write it. I just assumed they were aware that my thoughts were as random and pointless as I know them to be.

Anywhoo...

So last week I got this notion (a notion is something that comes to you when you finally - FINALLY - find yourself alone in the bathroom. Seriously, it is a rush! If you can accomplish some private bathroom time, you can conquer the world. It was a private bathroom experience that gave me the notion to: perm my hair, cut Remi's bangs, purchase a glue gun and buy a George Foreman grill.........uhhhh, I'm starting to see that "notions" are ridiculous.)

But I digress...

So last week I get this notion to put a message up on Facebook that if you know Meridith then to please text her on Tuesday and tell her that you love her. That was it. Just text her. Type in "I love you." And get out. No extra words. Extra words are stupid. Just get to the point. I just felt like Meridith, who has spent every waking minute in the hospital with her folks, might find it enjoyable to get a ton of text messages throughout the day of people showing their love.

And boy did the people turn out!

(Hey people, where were you when I bought that Foreman grill? That's $49.99 I'll never get back, thankyouverymuch.)

So many people left me comments that they would text her. People she knew from her job, from her church. People she didn't know; people from Tennessee, friends of mine that she's never even met. But so many have heard of what is going on with her folks and they all wanted to be a part.

Can I get a whatwhat for the body of Christ????????

So the big day came. Tuesday. I was going to be with her and it was going to be awesome. I figured she would start getting texts around 10am and I would be there and before you knew it she would be like, "Ahh, so many people are sending me love today. God is so good. And whoever made this happen is also good. I am blessed. And now I am praying blessing on the life of who did this. 'Lord, may they always find love in their friendships and may you keep their roots from growing out at such an expedient rate. Amen'." At least that's how I saw it goin' down in my mind.

But this is actually what happened:

I arrived at the hospital about 45 minutes after the first text message was received. In fact, at that point it was the only one that had been received. And funny enough, the first one came from my friend and fellow blogger Miss Aja Shoup. Unfortunately for Meridith, she doesn't know Aja Shoup. She also didn't know that she would be getting text messages. She also didn't know they would only state, "I love you."

So as I'm making my way off the elevator at St. Luke's hospital in Houston, Texas, Meridith grabs my arm and says, "I need to talk to you."

"What? What is it?"

"I just got a text message."

(I smile the best self righteous smile I can muster up) "And?"

"And all it said was 'I love you.'"

"Who was it from?"

"Someone named Aja Shoup."

"Do you know who this is?" I asked.

"I wasn't sure. So I told mom and she told me..." (she pulls me in closer now) "that she thought it was that Indian nurse from the 11th floor."

I bite my lip.

"Melissa, there is an Indian nurse on the 11th floor who loves me. Mom said she caught her staring at me and so it must be her. What do I do? She said she loves me. Loves me! Loves. Me."

What I find interesting at this point is
a. Aja is not Indian.
b. Aja is not a nurse.
c. Aja is not, in any way, "in love" with Meridith.

And it was at that moment that I realized I should have corrected the situation. Explained what had happened and let her know that there was not a female nurse on the 11th floor who loved her and wanted to take her for some chickan tikka and a sizzling platter of Biryani.

But I didn't.

Because Meridith's pain - is my endless delight.

But then she got, like, 112 more texts and the gig was up.

But those 40 minutes were priceless. Even when her dear mother asked us to go the cafeteria and get her something to eat Meridith told her no, for fear that her admirer might saddle up next to her and put the moves on her. That Aja. She is a naughty little ishqbazi.