When I was a kid, my mom refused to promise me anything except that she would never stop loving me. I begged for promises for birthday parties and puppies and vacations and new shoes, but she flat refused to tell me on certain terms that any of those things would materialize. Her word was strong as steel because she let no weak promises slip in to her language.
That was a grand tangent.
The point is, I won't tell my stories yet because they're not finished. But that strong as steel word told me tonight that I needed to update my blog with something...anything, for goodness' sake, so I will tell you things that I am sure are true.
- I have eaten oatmeal with raisins, apples, and honey for breakfast every day for the last 5 months. I love this food. I start thinking about it everyday around 7 pm. If I'm not careful, I eat it for dinner too. Gosh. I could eat some right now.
- I have been 24 years old for almost 24 hours. It feels good.
- My boyfriend is the most admirable man I have ever known, save for my father and grandfathers.
- I want to be a Child Life Specialist. I've tasted it for two months now, and I love every day that I spend at the children's hospital with those kiddos helping them understand and cope with being sick, and remember joy in the midst of their pain.
- I am going to move away from Kansas City sometime before August. If I hadn't been slowly preparing myself for this for the last year, I would wretch at the thought. I love all that this sweet little city and its beautiful people has been for me since I was 19 years old, but I have two big life dreams that can't come true here, so I will go. But I promise to come visit as much as I possibly can (except in February and August when the weather is profoundly irrational).
Now, a funny:
On Wednesday I was at the hospital , learning more about how to do my dream job, and I met a sweet girl for the first time. We were getting acquainted, talking about various play activities and whatnot. Near the end of our conversation, I thought I would be nice and let her know that she had paint on her forehead. I figured she had broken out the finger paints for her play-group that day and one of the kids had tagged her without her knowing.
"Oooh!", she said kindly, "that's not paint. It's ashes."
I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. It was Ash Wednesday, people. What kind of a Christian am I?
That's all for tonight, buddies. Except for one thing, doesn't my Mimi look positively regal in her birthday picture?
The other night over the phone, Opa (that handsome gent pictured above) told me he remembered the first time he ever told a girl he loved her. I asked him how that turned out, and he said: "Oh...you know...well, she's sitting right in front of me."
Sleep tight, my readers.