To you, and you, and you.

The holidays have me thinking about the things I'm thankful for. Mostly, I find myself being most thankful for the people, just the best people. Somehow it seems I got all the good ones. There are some lousy ones thrown in there too, but the good ones more than make-up for their nonsense.

Out of the 7 billion people on this planet, I'm certain the best ones are mine.
The best people are all mine.

the best to hug, and hold tight
the best at giving good advice
the very best to laugh with
the best to call when you're crying
the best to tackle and wrestle to the ground when you're angry
the best for keeping secrets
the best to borrow clothes from
the best to wink at
the best at listening - even when it's my same stories again, and again
the best to learn lessons from
the best at letting me learn my own lessons when I do something really stupid
the best at worrying about me
the best at giving forehead kisses, when they are most needed
the best to just sit with
the best.

Yeah, you can wreck yourself

You can call me names
You can swear and say I'm the one to blame.
You can raise your voice
You can roll your eyes
Honey, I'll still love you Anytime.

Peculiar.

Today I learned about the word peculiar. The literal definitions are:

1. Strange or odd, unusual
2. Distinct from all others

I like the second definition, very much. Saying it {when it means definition 2} leaves a sweet sound in my ears and mouth. And I like the way it looks written, just, the way it sits in a sentence.

"You're a peculiar girl, Ellie."

"Thank you. I'm aware."

"Tears were shed, swear words were said, but in the end we got where we needed to be." - Hay Walks {upon us winning math-bingo and receiving a 2 starburst prize}

Part-time

I have a way of making an awful mess of things. By things, I mean myself; my room, my books, my drawings, my relationships, my emotions, my hair, my nails {oh dear, I have ghastly nails}, my math homework, etc. I'm messy when I don't know what I want. I'm messiest when I'm chasing something I think I want, but I don't really want. I look all over hell for it - and anything in the way is ravaged and ignored. To prevent these Dionysian rampages from occurring too often I make lists. I make lists of things to do, things to remember, but mostly things to chase, and bottle up.


Recent lists bear resemblance to this, {scads of these things are in my head, and some of them are sitting in ink, on barbed slips of paper}:

sweaters
mini-mallows for hot chocolate
more sweaters, it's cold
holding hands for awhile
memorizing
to forget a lot
...and forgive?
ok. forgive.
books books books
laughter {the real and ugly kind}
honesty
my cousins back, wrapped up in my arms, all of them
more painting
less crying
really less crying
new people
practice
the best kind of kisses
the best kind of people, with stories

So that partly sums up, part of what I want, part-time.

People thanking God for saving them.

"...we choose possibility. Possibility is almost always better than reality." - Mrs. VanOrden