How to Watch Your Brother Die

A poem by Michael Lassell.

When the call comes, be calm.
Say to your wife, "My brother is dying. I have to fly
to California."
Try not to be shocked that he already looks like
a cadaver.
Say to the young man sitting by your brother's side,
"I'm his brother."
Try not to be shocked when the young man says,
"I'm his lover. Thanks for coming."

Listen to the doctor with a steel face on.
Sing the necessary forms.
Tell the doctor you will take care of everything.
Wonder why doctors are so remote.

Watch the lover's eyes as they stare into
your brothers eyes as they stare into
space.
Wonder what they see there.

Remember the time he was jealous and
opened your eyebrow with a sharp stick.
Forgive him out loud
even if he can't
understand you.
Realize the scar will be all that's left of him.

Over coffee in the hospital cafeteria
say to the lover, "You're an extremely good-looking
young man."
Hear him say,
"I never thought I was good enough looking to
deserve your brother."

Watch the tears well up in his eyes. Say,
"I'm sorry. I don't know what it means to be
the lover of another man."
Hear him say,
"It's just like a wife, only the commitment is
deeper because the odds against you are so much
greater."
Say nothing, but
take his hand like a brother's.

Drive to Mexico for unproven drugs that might
help him live longer.
Explain what they are to the border guard.
Fill with rage when he informs you,
"You can't bring those across."
Begin to grow loud.
Feel the lover's hand on your arm
restraining you. See in the guard's eye
how much a man can hate another man.
Say to the lover, "How can you stand it?"
Hear him say, "You get used to it."
Think of one of your children getting used to
another man's hatred.

Call your wife on the telephone. Tell her,
"He hasn't much time.
I'll be home soon." Before you hang up say,
"How could anyone's commitment be deeper than
a husband and wife?" Hear her say.
"Please. I don't want to know all the details."

When he slips into an irrevocable coma,
hold his lover in your arms while he sobs,
no longer strong. Wonder how much longer
you will be able to be strong.
Feel how it feels to hold a man in your arms
whose arms are used to holding men.
Offer God anything to bring your brother back.
Know you have nothing God could possibly want.
Curse God, but do no
abandon Him.

Stare at the face of the funeral director
when he tells you he will not
embalm the body for fear of
contamination. Let him see in your eyes
how much a man can hate another man.

Stand beside a casket covered in flowers,
white flowers. Say,
"Thank you for coming," to each of several hundred men
who file past in tears, some of them
holding hands. Know your brother's life
was not what you imagined. Overhear two
mourners say, "I wonder who'll be next?" and
"I don't care anymore,
as long as it isn't you."

Arrange t o take an early flight home.
His lover will drive you to the airport.
When your flight is announced say,
awkwardly, "If I can do anything, please
let me know." Do not flinch when he says,
"Forgive yourself for not wanting to know him
after he told you. He did."
Stop and let it soak in. Say,
"He forgave me, or he knew himself?"
"Both," the lover will say, not knowing what else
to do. Hold him like a brother while he
kisses you on the cheek. Think that
you haven't been kissed by a man since your
father died. Think,
"This is no moment not to be strong."

Fly first class and drink Scotch. Stroke
your split eyebrow with a finger and
think of your brother alive. Smile
at the memory and think
how your children will feel in in your arms,
warm and friendly and without challenge.

Is there any more room for me in those jeans?

Cramps! Yay!

And class and work... I called about getting an apartment at Hensley square this morning. They're holding it for me until tomorrow so I can look at it. I guess I'll sign the lease then... the only thing I don't like is no dishwasher and no washer/dryer hook-ups. Uggggghhhhhhh. What makes it a BIG plus is how close it is to the Tomlinson's.

That reminds me (unfortunately) that I had a horrible nightmare last night about the boys. I was awful. I can't wait to see them this afternoon. They didn't die, as people usually do in my dreams. It would have been better that way, though.

I spent a great deal of time Monday watching Boy Meets World. It was so refreshing to watch some simply comedy. I love a lot of funny things, but this was so innocent and wonderful... no political commentary, G-rated sex jokes... fantastic. That night I also watched Fight Club for the first time- very good, though I think my expectations were a little high. Last night we watched Peter Pan. I LOVE that movie. That little boy is so beautiful. I had to go to bed before we finished it, though. Sad day.

Fondu Thursday! I'm very excited!

I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me

I'm going to be angsty and upset for another moment today.

I've been trying for quite some time now to reconcile myself with some of the anger and resentment issues I have with my mother. As I laid down for a nap a little bit ago, many of these things started surfacing once again, and in a half-asleep state I started imagining the arguement that will never actually happen where I finally get to tell her how much she hurt me.

In my head I'm just yelling all these things, and out of my mouth pops "Fuck you for loving her more than you love me."

That had never occured to me. Never. I never once put those words together. But I think that might be the root of my problems.

I think the tears are proof positiive.

Hey! Let's go out dancing! You want to go out to Montauk with me?

4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Turning my computer on. I have that effect on electronics. Too bad I don't have the same effect on women.
~Trevor James Joiner, esq.

I thought that was to funny not to share, T.J. The fact that it's totally false makes it even funnier. ;)

So... I haven't updated (really updated) in quite some time. I had a list of things I'd written down from my trip to Gulf Shores that I wanted to write about, but I can't find it now. I think I'll go for the bullets style update and hit some of the high points of the last couple weeks:

~ we had a big group over for burgers and portebellos and salad and other such goodies
~ I got stung by a jelly fish
~ I brought lots of butter home from the hotel room
~ Andrew disappeared
~ Jessica, Jeff, Chris, and I ate at O'Charley's (where we saw O'Brian) and then played Cranium
~ chocolate cake shots are the shit
~ Graham and I drove to Tuscaloosa to visit our beautiful sister Lindsey
~ We went caching (unsuccessfully) and I got to an old Bryce Hospital (it was horrible)
~ I had a random conversation with someone who texted me on accident~ I finally hung out with Niki at the fair
~ Jessica and I got into the fair free and had a fantastic time
~ I've been hit on or shouted at (in a good way) at least three times this week (NOT on the internet!)

So... I could type a paragraph about each of those things, and I might, but not now. Classes are good. I'm signing a lease on a one bedroom this week, probably in O'Brian's complex. This would be good for several reasons, including it's proximity to UNA and work. If I can get an apartment there, I will probably start walking to Rosario's, which will be fantastic for gas and, more importantly, health. I'm really happy about this.

Sometimes my mother makes me so angry I want to hit her in the face. I love her. I love her more than I can possibly express. I am thankful for her every day, and I would not trade her for anyone else. But she pisses me the fuck off. Graham came to hang out with Niki and me and I had asked him to grab some money because I was short and couldn't get an arm band, and apparently Mom got really pissy over this... what the fuck?!?? Do you have any idea how much money they/she has blown on my siblings (especially the girls, and DEFINITELY Meagan) in the last several years? I NEVER, and I mean NEVER ask them for money. I have picked up groceries and cigarettes and other things for their house and not asked to be paid back. I could go on, but I won't. I would hate for someone to pick today to check out my page and see what I'm about, only to discern that I'm some whiny teenager. I really don't complain about my parents very much. But damn... I really feel like I should not ever ever ever have to even hesitate to ask them for money, not for stuff I want, and certainly not for stuff I need. One of the reasons I feel I shouldn't have to is because I wouldn't take advantage of that (NOT that my siblings have... Meagan is ridiculously catered to, yes, but they never say no, so why not, on her part, ya know?) I have to stop typing now. I hate rants like these because I could go on forever for one, and for another I don't want to read things like this in a couple years. I want to remember the good stuff.

Anyway. Plans for this weekend? Birmingham Friday, then working and packing Saturday, then moving Sunday... wow. I will miss Bungalow 12 very much.

I've missed you, blog.

Promiscuous girl, wherever you are, I'm all alone, and it's you that I want.

That's all.




Just kidding; I have so much to tell you, but I'm very tired. Class was good. Work was good. I think I shall retire now. I love you.

I was out of town Monday, so here is a belated tribute.

I will always have your back and be curious about you.

Unsent = wonderful song.

Yesterday was good. I'm sore as blazes from tubing. Katie and I took a bad fall and I jarred my neck pretty bad... so of course I kept tubing, and Jeff and I landed after a tremendous leap... I believe I'll remember that one for a long time.

My family is freaking fantastic. I love them. Dinner was great. Lindsey and Graham came over for a bit, and Lindsey ended up spending the night... we (Lindsey, Andrew, Jeff, Jessica, Chris, and me) watched Hostile last night, which is not a Quintin Taretino (spelling?) film at all, whatever they may tell you. It's pretty much just gross. After that, we watched The Little Mermaid, which was wonderful, of course.

I've been with the boys since 8 this morning. I thought I would have been out of here like 4 hours ago, but Rosario's still not home. No big deal, I guess, and the money's nice, but I thought I'd be out at the lake by now chiling with the family some more. Uncle Jim and Aunt Alice are in town for Labordabor. I guess I'll go eat there. Stephen should be home soon.

Jeff and Andrew and Lindsey made my day 2308249 times better by coming to the park this afternoon. Thanks, guys.

Please do.

...and in their purses were candy bars. How happy were they?







Have that kind of happy.

Wandering down this road that we call life...

I've got to stop watching clips from this show. They depress me so much, it's ridiculous. I don't even know why. It's stupid. It's just knowing that it ran for so long and the characters developed and changed so much and then it stopped and... grr. It's probably because I have such fond memories of this particular series. TGIF on ABC. Good times.

You know, I bawl at the last episode of every show I watch. It doesn't matter if I've ever seen another episode. I just think of what it must be like to work with a group of people for so long and to be so involved with the fictional characters as well as the real characters, and then to have that phase of your life end... anyway, moving on...

Speaking of crying, I watched Lady in the Water at the cheap theatre with Jeff and Andrew tonight, and it was fantastic. Okay, that's not quite true; I had to make a concious desicion to stop analyzing the movie and just enjoy it. I have a HUGE crush on Story... she's so innocent and fragile and beautiful and I want to bear her children. Anyway, it was good.

Before that we had Meaghan and Jeff and O'Brian over for hamburgers and portebella burgers and salad and green beans with almonds and and and it was so fun! Jonathan and Meagan were supposed to come, but they bailed. T.J. was invited to, but we didn't expect him to show. It was really fun.

After the movie, Jeff and Andrew and I went to Rivertown and then came here to meet Andrew's cousin Jessica and her friend Stephanie, then my Jessica got home and Chris came back over and we watched some fun clips on YouTube from Jon Stewart and Rocky Horror and such, and Andrew dressed up and danced for it.

Today has been a good day. I'm sorry I didn't post sequentially, but I hope you can decipher the order of events. :)

This is way to fun to pass by...

So... here are sixteen quotes from some of my favorite movies. Let's see if you can guess them all! No googling, now! And then you do it for me, because it's fun to guess, too! Thanks to the lovely Noel for this bit of excitement! And also... this is posted on lj, myspace, blogspot, and facebook... let's see which readers can get them first!

1. I know, that I am very fortunate to have a lady friend who just happens to have an Adam's Apple.

2. It's called the Freedom of Information Act, Kate. The hippies finally got something right! Ha-ha! Just kidding. But not really.

3. Yeah, I love you. (I'll have more of this quote later... I have to pop the movie in, though, because I can't find it online, and it's my favorite part.)

4. Don't just jump off like lemmings! Take a look around!

5. Give yourself over to absolute pleasure. Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh - erotic nightmares beyond any measure, and sensual daydreams to treasure forever. Can't you just see it? Don't dream it, be it.

6. Speak for yourself. You may be a sinner, but I ain't yet had the opportunity.

7. He tastes like you but sweeter!

8. No, no, STOP. I've waited my entire life for somebody that I cared about to tell me they loved me and if you think you're getting out of this car now, you're INSANE.

9. Too many guys think I'm a concept or I complete them or I'm going to make them alive, but I'm just a fucked up girl who is looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours.

10. Death, you are my bitch lover!

11. We're not in infinity. We're in the suburbs.

12. I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it.

13. I'll give this little cookie an hour before we're doing the no-pants dance. Time to musk up.

14. Mom, I can't talk right now, I'm having sex with a white woman.

15. I want always to be a boy, and have fun.

16. I thought you killed yourself. That wasn't you?

Be nicer than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Mr. Dick Hoyt

by Rick Reilly

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck. Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars -- all in the same day (doing the Ironman Triathlon). Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much -- except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. "He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life," Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old, "Put him in an institution." But the Hoyts weren't buying it.

They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way," Dick says he was told. "there's nothing going on in his brain." "Tell him a joke," Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!"

And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that." Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker" who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "then it was me who was handicapped,"

Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks." that day changed Rick's life. "Dad," he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!" And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

"No way," Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year. Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?" How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried. Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzz kill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way," he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling" he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together. This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992 -- only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time. "No question about it," Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century." And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape," one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago." So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life. Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day. That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The thing I'd most like," Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once."

<

And in my best behaviour, I am really just like him.

Oh goodness. Life is not so bad.

We have power in the apartment now, which is nice. I like all my classes, which is nicer. I'm tired, but that's okay. I'm glad to be back at the day care. I love Harris and William more every time I see them, and I know they love me.

Some killer bands are going to be at Big Spring Jam this year. I'm pretty pumped about that. I had Arby's tonight, and I'm happy about that, too.

And a time for every purpose under heaven.

All human life has its seasons,and no one's personal chaos can be permanent:
Winter, after all, does not last forever, does it?
There is summer, too, and spring, and though sometimes
when branches stay dark and the earth cracks with ice
one thinks they will never come,
that spring, that summer,
but they do,
and Always.

You'd think that people would of had enough of silly love songs.

Thank a lot, Jessica. I couldn't figure out what song was in my head all day!

So... I haven't been this excited about school-- specifically college- in a loooooong time. I am inclined to believe this is a good thing. I'm especially excited at writing again. I can't believe how much I've missed it! I really have, though, and I'm ready to start again. I'm sure I'll be rusty at first, but it should come back fairly quickly, right?

At the day care last night Chris, Chris who you've heard of many a time, was pretending to race his car, and it was really sweet. He's nine now, but still rarely acts like it, and this moment of childlike playtime was nice to see... until he pretended to jerk his car to a stop and roll down the window. "Mann, why'd you pull me over?!" Then he went to "jail" and had one of the play phones and had several conversations along the lines of "Man, you better get me out of here or I'm gonna kill all you and your families!"

Sad, huh? I had asked him the night before what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he said a rapper. And I asked what else he might wanna be, should that fail. And he said a robber. If not that, he wants to fight pit bulls.

I'm going to bring him pictures of robbers and pitbulls all torn up and sad Monday, and some pictures of nice pits and firefighters and policemen, and hopefully spin things off in a good way. Once I got him talking about those last two options, he actually was more interested. Those are normal nine year old dream jobs, aren't they? Maybe some astronat pics?

So now a question, and I'm going to aim it specifically at my black friends, though I'm sorry to segregate and I value opinions from everyone: any idea how I can get this kid uninterested in this kind of behaviour? I'm not suggesting he's acting up because he's black or any such nonsense, but I am saying that he has been taught that to be a cool, to be black, he has to be a thug and he has to cuss and hit women (yes, we have conversations to that effect... he's so young to have seen that stuff...), and when he's in trouble, he thinks it's because he's black and we are white (even though half the day care instructers are black... when he's in trouble with them, he just thinks it's because they're mean, but when it's with us, it's because we're out to get him). I think I'm doing all that I can, considering what needs to be done is he should be taken out of his home, but I figured I'd ask for suggestions anyway. Surely he's not already lost in society at nine years old?

On a happier note, one of my professors mentioned Flipper yesterday, and that made me super happy. I remember that show. :)

Life may not be the party we hoped for...

...but while we are here, we should dance!

And so it is, just like you said it would be...

I got our lease extended for another month. This takes a HUGE weight off my shoulders. To much at the same time; I was REALLY close to my breaking point two days ago, but now things are stable again. Pipeline is also letting me register online now, which makes life a LOT better. I'm happy.

I'm starting to become excited about school. This came out of nowhere. I have been dreading it until yesterday, when all of a sudden I kinda thought "hmm, this could be fun." Now, this didn't cancel out the dread or the lack of enthusiasm, it's merely in addition to the negative feelings. Yes, I'm entertaining both at the same time.

I have the weirdest dreams. Last night I dreamt that I took Harris and William to Hunstville, because I was moving into a back room at the library there; I've never been to the library in my dream, but Kyle, you worked there. Then at like 10 in the evening Rosario came to get the boys and said "I thought you would have been back home by now," and only then did it occur to me in the dream that I hadn't even thought to ask if the boys could spend the night.

I saw Karen the day before yesterday, which I'm sure has a lot to do with my improved mood. After she left I went to BAM to help entertain Jessica, and I ended up staying there for like 4 hours. I bought a cheapo notebook and got a stack of cook books and started copying recipes I liked. Before that I read some more of The Five People You Meet in Heaven and I skimmed through some of my favorite V.C. Andrews books. It was great.

For a few brief moments, my whole family was at the house, and we talked in the foyer. I am so in love with each of them. Dad worries about us a lot, I think, and even though he doesn't say it very much, I think he is so proud of all of us and all that we do. Mom loves us so much, and she constantly surprises me with her support and her want for us to be happy. Lindsey is constantly changing and expanding, and she is to beautiful to keep it bottled up, so in turn the rest of us are given the chance to change and expand, always for the better. Graham thinks of us always, and his mellow love for us allows for a quiet peace that's hard to find other places. Meagan is more mature and beautiful every time I see her, and I know now more than ever that I can depend upon her as a sister and a friend; if I needed someone, she would be one of the first people I'd think to call.

I love you, Reader. Love me, too.

The trapeze act was wonderful.

Please, remember me, happily,
By the rosebush laughing,
With bruises on my chin
The time when we counted every black car
Passing your house beneath the hill
And up until someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range, a piggy bank
A vision to removed to mention...

That's cool with me- it's not my favorite, but I'll do it for you.

I found another song about Grace by the Bacon Brothers... thanks for the overwhelming response to that post, by the way... and by overwhelming, I mean virtually non-existent. You'd think that having a livejournal, myspace, blogspot, and facebook would keep me connected, wouldn't you? Apparently not.

The boys are asleep and the parents should be back in an hour. After that I might go to Kid Safari and get the check that's sujpposed to come for me today, though I may wait until tomorrow. We shall see. I should probably go get it when I visit Shareese (which will be soon, I promise! Sorry for being out of touch...) because I have no money and no gas.

In a rather depressing turn of events, I've lost all the pictures I had on my computer. That includes some I can retrieve (some that Lance gave me and my high school pictures) but I lost all the web cam pics I had of Stephen, which means the pictures of the kittens I had and of Richie and most importantly, all the pics from my dorm room. This makes me want to cry, and it's been like three days since it happened, and it won't go away. I guess it will. Eventually. :(

Last night I ate dinner over here (as a guest, not as the nanny!) and it was really great. I love this family. We didn't say a blessing before the meal, and that was perhaps the most awkward I've ever felt before supper. I said my own silent prayer, but it was still ridiculously weird.

Tomorrow I work from 8-4 and then I'm off, woohoo! I think they want me to split my day Friday, but I'm not really down with that, so hopefully I won't end up saying yes if they ask me to. I don't like split days.

And now, because Kyle tagged me, six wierd things! Six more weird things, rather, as you can read the first six here... or here... or here. :) Seeing as I am one very odd duck, though, I will give you some new and original oddities:

1. Sometimes I go through phases where things don't make me cry, and then I miss the tears. For a while, I couldn't even tear up without conjuring up every sad moment in my life, and even then it didn't always work. Now I'm back to normal, and a good song at the right moment can set off the sprinklers. Not sobs, mind you, just trickles, and I like that.

2. I don't locked doors. I used to think that I just never thought to lock them, but I've realized over the course of this past year that it's not that. I just don't like them. It's like locking the doors means that I'm admitting that people can't be trusted, and I don't like that thought. (I do still lock them most of the time, of course, because I don't want to feel stupid one day if I get robbed ;)

3. I love the smell of rubbing alcohol. I absolutely love it.

4. I saw this on a postsecret the other day, and I realized it could be a confession of my own... anyway, when there's a group of people together, I wonder which one of us will die first. Not really in a morbid sort of way, just a curious sort of way. And I don't do this all the time, so if we're ever hanging out and you see me zone, don't assume I'm contemplating your future non-existance.

5. When I listen to a new cd, I'm absolutely enthralled by the knowledge that one day soon, I will be obsessive about several of the songs (assuming it's by a band I like, of course). I like knowing that a song that seems foreign and usually ends up as background music upon first listening will soon be stuck in my head for days on end. I feel the same way about new places... I like knowing that streets that unfamiliar will soon be fixed into my head and landmarks will seem unnecessary (as in the move to Florence).

6. When I want to concentrate on a song or what someone's saying, I often start signing what they're saying (spelling it out with one hand, only, not all out sign). This isn't so I can pay more attention; it give my hands something to do so I don't get fidgety and my mind doesn't drift, but it doesn't occupy all of my mind.

That was the end, but I forgot that I was going to mention my trip Tuscumbia with April last week... I took her to the doc, and Landon is BEAUTIFUL and April is radiant, of course. After I dropped her off, I drove by Micah's old house. I almost drove past it. It was so weird. Years ago I could have found that place in the dark. It was still beautiful, and it made me kind of sad in a strange sort of way; I have a lot of memories from that house. Good memories, most all of them. It just got me to thinking about him and about Stephen and about various other relationships I had or almost had or wish I could have or am happy I don't have.

What a long blog! Oh my!

Fantastic French Toast!

I made some fantastic French toast... banana stuffed on raisin bread... hit me up for the recipe. ::

I should have started posting earlier... the Tomlinson's will probably be back any minute. I have so much to tell you, reader... thoughts on life... tales of my recent expereinces... I can't start them now, though, because I will surely get to caught up in them. Maybe later this evening; I think I'm gonna spend the night at my parents' house. My sister is back, hurray! I have a dentist appointment at 8:30 tomorrow morning in Muscle Shoals; I'm going to try and schedule an eye exam tomorrow, too.

Get this: I haven't seen my UNA id in months... I remember not really caring that much after I lost it because we were supposed to get new ones anyway (which I never did) and the old one doesn't work for anything. So, when I went to get my pink eye checked out, they said I'd need my id if I wanted to be recognized on my dad's insurance or some mess like that... I'm thinking this means I'ma have to wait until school starts before I can get some glasses (which I'm wanting more and more... I'm tired of not being able to see anything). Yesterday, William hands me my id while we're playing in the livng room. I guess I lost it among the toys here.

Karma, anyone? I hope so.

As if I need any more proof that there is a God and that's he's looking out for me... one little miracle after another. :)

I thought the Tomlinsons would be home by now. If they're here by 11, that will mean I've worked 12 hours today. Dag, yo... that's awesome. I need the money. 8 hours yesterday, 8 tomorrow and Thursday and Friday... at 7 an hour... $308 bucks. Good deal.

I just need 250 for an apartment deposit and 150 for utility deposit, oh, and let's not forget driving school...

and I don't want to be alone.