Current Mood: Happy

Ambien Works. That’s a great song by the Grey Kid. Also, it is true. Therefore, this blog will be as long as the Ambien permits it. 

The week of my birthday was amazing. There were wonderful words that kept cropping up all week, like unique, apocalyptic, yeti, and cake, and presents. There was an ultimate accumulation that resulted in the apocalypse of my 20’s, and delivered me relaxed, contented, and zen-like into my 30’s, having eaten unique cake, and getting presents, and remembering with delight that “yeti” means, “That thing over there!”

I have high hopes that the happy feelings from it it will all last for a long time to come. Sweet Donnie made it the best birthday I have ever had, simply by being there, loving me, and giving me the gift of his time. He also showered me with some of the most amazing presents I have ever received, leaving me wondering what on earth I had done to deserve such luscious treatment. I decided I just did, and thanked him over and over again. I have already started plotting Christmas and his birthday for next year. 

Elise and Kristi and Aric also made it an amazing day by talking with me, having dinner, and giving me unique and marvelous presents that they claimed spoke to them and told them they must come home with me. This is prototype software I’m using, very dangerous should it whisper the wrong thing, such as “Kelly wants the pea green socks,” instead of “Kelly wants the flip flops in summer colors.” But effective thus far. And it is invisible. I could have a plant on your right now, getting ready to tell you what I want for Christmas. 

No. I wouldn’t. I would never. I would only tell you psychically.

Speaking of psychics, Elise and Donnie and Julio and I had a really good time at the fair. We ate a lot of bad for us food, I patted myself on the back for eating two Vikings on a Stick, (and if you have to ask, you’ve never been, and you weren’t there, but I hope you find out someday). We looked at ridiculous things and paid for a machine called the wizard to read our fortunes for two dollars. The was a dirty old man there who was absolutely fascinated with Elise after asking carefully if Donnie is my husband, and learning that I am taken. So he looked her up and down and invited her to Vegas, and told her she was all kinds of lovely, which we already know thank you very much. But the part where he actually asked her to turn around and show him her ass, I grabbed her and said, “time to go.” I guess a man’s gotta have a dream. But really, that’s partly what you go to the carnival for. The oddities, the possible pervert to avoid, the interesting tidbits. The fair is magic no matter what. A community vampire that sucks the life out of a week of summer, and everyone leaves a little of their life force there, in a junk food wrapper, in a scream embedded into the Zipper, in a shriek of laughter from the ridiculous and absurd. 

Hmmm. Perhaps a little prosy here, I feel. 

I am extremely grateful, as always, for Sweet Donnie, my sweet friends, and my sweet seestor. We have had a lot of fun this summer. I intend to have some more. I’m not going to go beat it down with a stick or anything, just make sure I get a few more road trips in there, a few more adventures. You should come with. I think we’ll go dig up some fossils next.