Day 18: Joyeux anniversaire.

A few days ago I was helping my nana move into her new house. I got put in charge of the books (because books are my favorite material possessions) on the shelf downstairs. In the midst of the craziness and tossing of books and yelling up to my mother and dancing about to a little Eurythmics, I came across a journal.

I opened it up. My nanas. From the year I was born. (Heaven sent this to me, I presume.)

I flipped to the thirteenth of August.

Sure enough. There it was. She had written about the day I was born and everything she was feeling. She wrote about my mom and how happy she was to finally have a granddaughter. I read it and I cried.

That was my favorite birthday. The one we actually celebrate everything because of.

People watching should become your favorite pastime.

All my love,

Addy

P.S. Dear Anonymous Commenter,

Feel free to comment often, because your comment made my whole week. Do I know you in real life?

In response to your question, I am terrified to announce who this boy is because, in facebook language, "it's complicated" and he probably doesn't love me back, but I sometimes think that he might and it gives me grief and I don't want the whole world/whole blogosphere knowing who it is. If I know you in real life, I'll totally tell you.

J&K = Jake and Katie.

Thank you so much for reading this little blog.

All my love to you, Addy

Confessions of a people watcher.

I watch people. Everywhere. We went to get ice cream yesterday and I was enthralled.

I watched, curiously, as four teenagers bought ice cream and sat down.

I studied the three girls in cheer sweats filling their cups.

I commented on the family that walked in.

Harli and Will thought it was funny. They think I'm odd, with my wild obsession with people. But aren't people thrilling for you? Or is it just me? Take, for example, the four teenagers. I eventually concluded they were on an awkward first date. The girls had done their hair and makeup; the boys looking freshly showered and slightly nervous... There's so much to wonder about! There was the girl in the shirt made of material that looked exactly like Minnie Mouse's dress. Do you think her parents love each other? Do you think she loves her parents? Do you think she likes the boy she was with? Where did she get that top? Did she steal it from Minnie? Do you think she'd lend that top to me? What about the boy she was with? Does he like books? Does he like her? What does he think of her shirt? As most people know, I live happily in my own little world. And most of that world is positively consumed with watching and wondering. I'm curious. I want to walk up and ask. I want to know these people personally. I want to walk up and say, "Do your parents love each other? Do you love her parents? Would you lend me that top?" But, of course, everyone would think, "Creepist!!" And the police would probably come and steal me away after the girl in the Minnie Mouse shirt filled a restraining order against me. I did - for the most part - spend the ice cream excursion encircled in social norm and general formality to strangers.

But, on my way out the door, we passed the four awkward-first-daters. They were clapping like Dumbledore. And I positively could not resist a single moment longer. I leaned into the table - wearing my rainboots and my favorite sweater and bright red lipstick, saying, "I like Dumbledore, too." I bit my tongue before asking to borrow her Minnie Mouse top.

Learn to say, "I love you" more often.

All my love, Addy.