Sunrise... Sunset...

(Marissa)

It's been a long time since I wrote. It's been a long week.

Full of heartbreak and happiness.

Triumph and tragedy.

Conflict and compromise.

You know, pretty much like any other week. Existentialism is depressing and makes my mind hurt, and Flickr likes Katie better than me, but these are things I'm trying to learn to live with. At the moment, they are unimportant.

Andrea is starting college tomorrow.

I think that I'm freaking out way more than she is. I met her a week ago, I swear! It hasn't been that long! It hasn't been years!

My childhood is flashing before my eyes.

Last Sunday we were horsies. Evil men wanted to lock us up in dark, scary cages, when all we wanted out of life was to be able to run freely on the prairy hills and comb our long, beautiful "tickle-me-pink" manes.

That's me.

Monday Andrea was arguing with Kelsey about who got to be the youngest when we played House. And they finally decided that they would be twins, that was fair, but then came the all important question: Which twin was born first?

Tuesday we had a water fight with that-boy-across-the-street-who's-name-no-one-can-remember and his cousin, who's name was Alonzo (maybe), but Andrea called him Lasagna, either because she couldn't pronounce his name or because she liked teasing him. And Mei hit one of them across the back side with an umbrella, which was peculiarly violent for her, but which we felt meant a definitive victory for us.

Wednesday we played mermaids in her pool. Well, Kevin and I were mer-people. Andrea was a dolphin.

Thursday morning was middle school. Around twelve high school made it's appearance.

Friday she graduated and gave her valedictorian speech with the Dr. Sues quote. Katie and I missed it because we were so sure that graduation would last four hours (like it had for the last thirty years) that we walked in an hour late, armed with note passing materials, just in time for the alma mater, closing remarks, and lei giving.

Saturday Katie, Andrea, and I threw a going away party, without once acknowledging it was such. I signed her yearbook and looked over the clothes that she wasn't taking with her in the amazing tent we'd made.

(This picture doesn't even come close to showing how fantastic this tent was. We strung the sheets from the ceiling fan, which made my mom a little nervous because it was tipping significantly to the left. "I hope it doesn't kill you in your sleep," she said. Optimism, Mom. We covered the floor with pillows and quilts and blocked out the night with cloth and clothes pins, just like we used to when we were six. It was genius. Almost cream puff level.)

Yesterday we made crepes together and played Apples to Apples and laughed and told stories about that kid in Utah who smuggled a penguin out of the zoo in his backpack and who's parents found out when he was playing with it in the bath. We turned off the lights at two.

And tomorrow Andrea is going to college.

Can someone get me a wheelchair please?

I feel old.

Over.

Katie... TaDA

Today I’m introducing you to Katie. EverybodyKatieKatieEverybody.

I’ve been sitting here in my (dad’s) office, fiddling with the pencils in the blue cup next to me, looking at the New York times, checking my email and writing back to all of those people who emailed a long time ago but didn’t.

Basically I’m doing anything I can to not write this post. Because I have no idea what to tell you about Katie.

Katie is something like 5’4 or 5’3. All I know is that she is shorter than me and it had better stay that way. She has really long shiny hair that goes a long way down her back, and even when it is messed up it looks beautiful. Oh! My fingernails are starting to tint green. Excuse me while I go wash the envy off.

Alright. I’m good again.

So I thought about a list of adjectives (cool, awesome, smart, amazing, straight-forward), but that’s a bit too abstract for me. What would really know about her when I was done? You’d really just have a general idea of my vocabulary, and that disappointment can wait for later.

I could tell you about her accomplishments. She has a lot so we could get impressive here. This year is her second (third?) going to National History Day, she just finished starring in a production of Twelfth Night down in town (town, for anyone who doesn’t live around here is the general term we use for anywhere not within twenty or thirty minutes of our house). She probably is going to end up with a 4.6 and get full points on the SAT and ACT. She sings, dances, plays the piano and wii.

Yeah, that’s not cutting it either.

Ideally I would tell you a story that would reveal Katie’s innermost soul and then you would think, “Oh! I get it! Katie is totally amazing!”

I don’t have a story like that. I’m sure one exists. I might even know it. But I can’t think of it. Even if I could, I’m not sure Katie would like her innermost soul displayed for the world to see.

So I’ll tell you about Adam Popcorn, since it’s one of our more current adventures and the stupid thing of the year so far. It was my idea. I admit that fully and upfront. It was my really, really stupid idea. It came in News Writing, which is where a surprising number of ideas come.

Adam Popcorn is popcorn with melted starbursts (the tropical kind) and krazy kore skittles and peanuts. We knew it was going to be gross, but we figured in might be gross in the same way that potato chips are when you’ve eaten too many.

The starbursts wouldn’t melt. They just glopped, sticky clumps of blue-green gooiness sticking to the bottom of my butter pan. Katie and I were undeterred, however. Sometimes determination isn’t such a good thing.

We poured in the starburst, tossed the skittles and peanuts and went for it. We chewed for a while, feeling the enamel of our teeth eaten off.

“This is terrible,” I said, after I’d unstuck my teeth.

“Yeah, it’s really bad.”

But we kept putting the popcorn into our mouth in an almost mechanical motion. Headaches, stomachaches and general aches followed. We tried to go on a walk, but we just didn’t feel good enough. So we slumped on the couch and groaned for an hour or so.

“You know,” Katie said, rolling over. “I think our friendship has moved up to a new level now. Like, now when I’m in jail, you’re going to be the one sitting next to me instead of baling me out.”

“Uhh.”

After that we made a recipe from Mark Bittman (http://video.nytimes.com/video/playlist/style/the-minimalist/1194811622323/index.html#1247467711482).

I’m not sure how enlightened you actually are by this. I guess what I really wanted to say is that Katie is one of those people I can do stupid things with and say stupid things too, not because she won’t tease about it, but because when she does I can tease her back.

Happy birthday, Katie. Love you. You rock my socks. You deserve a billion marshmallows. Over.