This one is for Christina, who sends me threatening emails that none of you know about.

Random pictures from the camera include

Red Velvet cake from late August, waiting for that big fat cream cheese frosting cover that hides all the red:
The new specs:



The new specs and the new haircut/color (this picture is way serious, as you can tell--I'm not smiling):

I wish Mike were my bf, especially in see-through white pants at the River Hills JC Penney:


I am much better at piano than Chad is, but don't tell him (and you know Mike and I rock because the "piece" we are playing has cartoon pictures on the top):

Slutty pony, slutty slutty po-ney.

***

During 8th hour today, someone lit a garbage can on fire in a boys bathroom, and the World Lit class, Mr. Olson and I hugged the curb while fire trucks drove to the school to make sure all was clear. What adventures!

The vertigo hasn't gone away yet, and in an odd attempt to alleviate my dizziness I took a nearly three hour nap and then went for a three mile run, which turned into a one mile run and a two mile reflection walk. My stomach hurt, and the night was too nice for a run, almost--it warranted one of those walks in the dark, arms up, catching the strong, warm South wind. I didn't run on the busy road tonight, but ran up the dirt road path, between all of the corn. Instead of fearing cars on that path, I worry about creatures jumping from brown rows of corn to steal me in the dark. I think that the light on my ipod is really the light from some alien space ship looking for young runners to take with them to the dark sky. But I can run in the middle of the road. Different path, different fears.

Then, to counter the 400-some calories I'd burned, I came home and made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, poured handfuls of milk chocolate in my hands and shoved it down my gullet, scooped spoonfuls of cookie dough and licked the spoon, my fingers into a sticky mess. And I've burned a new CD tonight, tunes for the students--the top hits of 1942 to set the scene for A Separate Peace, because how else can you really understand Gene if you don't know what songs he's been listening to on his ipod while walking around the Devon campus, while waiting to be drafted into the second world war, fighting those goddamned nazis?