I am such an ungrateful, needy fucker sometimes. Jaime says she and Julie were just talking about my birthday and what we should all do. They decided that they would all head out to my place and then I wouldn't have to drive. They thought the best thing would probably be for all of us to just hang at my place and be together. (I had already nixed the idea of a restaurant because none of us have the $$ to go places I would like to go.) Fucking Perfect. It is absolutely incredible to me that as I sit here writing about how my friends really ought to know that they do really know. I mean, maybe I need to get with it. I am sure it was Jaime's idea. She knows me better than anyone, probably.
Oh, here's another thing... she says of UCLA: that's incredible. She's absolutely rhapsodic about it and then she says, "considering how on the fence you were about even applying," the fact that you got to this stage is outstanding. Anything above getting that application in is just gravy as far as I'm concerned." I was fucking speechless. I am SO grateful for her. She almost always knows the perfect thing to say to me. It is phenomenal. (I have used all of my superlative adjectives up in this paragraph. The next will be completely devoid of them.)
I do the same thing to her, and I am usually aware of it when I do, but I forget that she plays that rôle with me as well. Hooray for friends. Ashley has got me thinking about childhoods. Full length days that were happy... ummm.
There was a day when I was at my grandfather's house once and my Aunt Heidi, who I have been trashing in this journal for a while now, (because she's not an adult), and Gramps and (I suppose) Michael and Debs and I made ornaments that were some sort of stained glass. What you did was take these sort of wrought metal things that looked the way stained glass frames look, and then there were these little beads/chips/granules of some sort that were all different beautiful colors—jewel tones: reds and greens and blues and violets of all different shades. You put these beads in each section of the stained-glass frame and then you baked them on a cookie sheet. The colors flattened out in the oven and became ornaments that looked stained glass. They were beautiful, and I remember actually thinking—it was late in the evening when we were done—how grateful I was that my aunt and grandfather had taken the time out to get us this kit and make all of these beautiful ornaments with me/us. It's actually all very vague in my head except for the ornaments which I can see very clearly.
It is 10:40, and I am off to bed. I am going to do yoga in the morning. I have decided it.
I am so grateful for so much. Sometimes I can be such a sorehead.
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