Sunday, July 02, 2006

Dear everyone,

We're not going to talk about June. June and I made an agreement and one or the other of us broke it. Either way, we're currently dead to each other, until one of us breaks and walks over to confess to being the 'tard here.

You know, today was sort of perfect. Steph and Ryan and I made it to the beer festival at happy hour, which meant that we got extra tickets. We sat on the grass in the sun and drank beer for hours, surrounded by dogs, several of which were bulldogs. A cute boy with fantastic sunglasses (awesome sunglasses are sometimes an acceptable substitute for visible tattoos in this new game of looking) stopped by to chat about my dinosaur shirt and then went away, which is exactly what he was supposed to do because no one new is allowed to touch me until I feel differently about things. We stopped by the wading pool, I came home and took a nap. Everything is just. Perfect.

I did not set my hair on fire with the grill, although it was a very near thing. They're not kidding when they talk about fast-lighting charcoal.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I'm holding at a steady 7. Which is so much better than the 3 I was two months ago and the 5 I was on Friday. Right now has a pretty good beat and I could likely dance to it.

If you've been playing along on the home version you'll remember that I am obsessed with your fingerprints. And mine too, but it is yours we have to talk about. Because I have spent a long time now meeting new people, and it has recently occurred to me that dozens and dozens of people have, in the last year-and-a-half, left their fingerprints on me. And I just can't take that kind of pressure. This is why there is the new no touching rule. If your fingerprints are already here, fine. If not, let's just keep the holy ghost between us, shall we?

So, whatever. It's July and the year is halfway over and I know I probably should care, but who can work up the energy? I'd rather use all that effort to figure out how to plant a three-ring circus in your yard like flowers, so in early fall you'll be able to look out your window and see clowns and highwire artists and lion tamers. I'm going to find all of the songs with a trumpet in them and make a mixtape, and then we can get in the car and drive until the tape is over. We're not talking about June and we're not preparing for July. We're going to start looking at our year as not made of parts, but just one lump sum of time that we've got to spend before it runs out.


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