I had a fabulous day. In a word, irreplacable. I woke up around 9, much to my late morning chagrin. Suus's mom called all the way from Holland, where it was already 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Poor little Suus. Poor little me. I got up to go read the newspaper downstairs when I caught myself in the mirror. The spray on tan I got on Thursday has soaked deep down into my skin; I am now a bronze cookie. Imagine pouring little flecks of harmless UV rays all over somebody... voila. Yasser Arafat has died. I want to rejoice but I stop myself because I don't know the politics of the situation. Note to self, read the State every morning. Ask me to have an opinion about recycling, sure. Ask me to defend a political statute and I'm as shy as my mother when she hid under the table from her four year old birthday party guests. I need to work on that. After a decadent breakfast of wheat (fiber points) and nutella (mmm, what can i say?) Nana came over to help organize and fill shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. We adopted 4 children- two boys and two girls aged 5-9/10-14. I printed off a list of Merry Christmas in languages from all over the world, not knowing the final destination of the boxes proves to be frustrating. There are so many crosswords, games, and books in English. But not so many starving, impoverished children in Britain. This is the second weekend Ma and I have done something together, just she and I. I had been convinced we were driving each other apart yet ever since I got my license, we intermingle smoothly instead of picking each others antics apart. I told her the road to higher ground is... me going to college. Evidently, my college-age sister and she have a formidable relationship. The point of success? They do not live in the same household. Suus, Ma, and I got coffee at Atlanta Bread Company tonight. We planned to go Dutch (ironic, for Suus) and each paid our own way; only, I lucked out! Adam was working and gave me free coffee. I insisted on paying but he insisted that I say "Fill er up. I paid for this over at the other register" so I went along with him. Cece was there waiting on a friend that was home on fall break from USC-Aiken. Suitcase college... depressing. She seemed out of touch as I talked to her. She must have been somewhere else, say counting the number of lines in the grain of the wooden floors or how many curves in the word "sun-dried" or "dill pickle" on the placard right above my head. Bah, I don't blame her. When I was a little kid I would count the number of clicks and pops the church light fixtures made during communion while the minister read an obscure verse from the gospel. I'd be a hypocrite to point a finger. Emily is coming home soon! So is Casey but I don't know how to react. I'm still hurt from last summer. He'll probably exert some type of college superiority vibe on my supposedly inferior high school seniority. I'm afraid of that happening and me winding up hating him for it. I want to be friends, I really do. I know, you're probably thinking "Cheer up, emu kid". OK, line drawn. Fell in love with the plot line of Shall We Dance for 5.50 at the cinema. It started as a sympathy viewing so Suus wouldn't go by herself. The movie combined dancing, philosophy and Chicago, synthesizing the lessons of middle class life into a cassa nova story of re-awakening. In short, I loved it. Watch out L-Train, here I come. Mm, mm. Here tha train a calling ooo-ee, oo-ee baby.... yeahhh.