The aforementioned whirlygirl birthday mix:
"Lettuce in a Briefcase"
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Alain de Botton
On Love
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An unread week and a half of the Washington
Post
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rainy summer days;
hours upon hours of telephone talk;
the fireflies that hang out in the ivy next to my bedroom window;
scanners (literally and metaphorically);
resisting the comfort of air conditioning until it gets really hot;
fresh cilantro in my scrambled eggs;
a clean desk
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Todd turns 28 today... just under a month until he and Hayley
tie the knot. I told him a few months ago that I once learned you're not supposed
to get married until you're 28 because until then you haven't fully developed into
the person you will be for the rest of your life.
Todd does everything by the book. No wonder his mother thinks he's a square.
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On Thursday the post office returned Howard's birthday card to me for the
third time. The first time I wrote 2442. Wrong. I emailed him and asked him to send me
his real house number. The second time I wrote 2223. Incredibly wrong, as that's MY house
number (idiot!). I emailed him (again!) and asked him to confirm his house number as the
first time he corrected me I didn't really correct it in my address book. He sent back an email
with his house number copied and pasted about a thousand times. So at his urging, the third
time I addressed it to 2442 and dropped it into the mail just before he wrote back to tell me
that this time HE got his house number wrong and it was actually 2443.
I think I have it right this time. Howard's birthday was in March. At this point I think the card is
early for next year.
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I'm off to have a rainy day adventure. A library. A museum.
Something where I can splash in puddles along the way and walk slowly and listen
to the hushed whispers of near silence.
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