"It's not ajar it's a door!"

Dear Buddy,

Do you remember that time we were driving back from Battlecreek and you...well, let's just say you attracted the attention of the driver of the semi in the lane next to us? Remember how you made a sign and held it up to the window? I think that marks the moment that epitomized how wild, adventurous, and truly uninhibited you can be...an how NOT any of those things I am. I remember driving and yelling at you (while laughing, of course) and saying, "OH MY GOD! LOOK! HE'S NOW OFFICIALLY FOLLOWING US! STOP!!!!!" As much as I may have acted so exasperated by your behavior, I was so envious of you that you could do something like that but I never could. At the same time, I've always been grateful to have had so many moments like those with you. Because of your apparent fearlessness, I had a blast during my early adult years. I have the luxury of having great stories to tell without having had to actually do the things that created those great stories...if that makes sense. This may be coming out all wrong, but the point is, thanks for being always hilarious, periodically insane, and perfectly there for me ALL. THE. TIME. Seriously, I still can't even get three words of our answering machine messages out without laughing. And they were HORRIBLE!! I realized that, as someone that tries to find the humor and the upside to everything, I am truly graced by you as being someone that will ALWAYS laugh with me. For you and I, there is no such thing as an inappropriate time to laugh. Ugh, that's so cliche! I'm nauseating myself.

When I was in first grade, my teacher had the class play a game in order to help us learn each other's names. We sat in random seats on the carpet at the front of the room and, one by one, went around and said our names. We were then instructed to close our eyes and put our foreheads on the floor (sort of in that tornado drill position). The teacher would quietly walk around the carpet and discreetly tap a student on the back. That student would ever so quietly tiptoe out of the room and into the hallway. The teacher would then instruct everyone to sit up and open their eyes. We would all have to guess who left the room. We played this game everyday for the first couple of weeks. I am not exaggerating when I say that NO ONE ever guessed correctly when it was me that left the room. Granted, I wasn't the only that had that experience. Even at six years old, it hurt my feelings a little. I can't say I was totally sure why it bothered me, but I was swift enough to know that some kids left the room and nearly every child left immediately raised their hands to guess. I know this may sound melodramatic and boo-hoo me. I'm not going to try to claim I was invisible or this lonely girl that no one seemed to notice. That wasn't the case at all. In fact, I remember the words "...but Amy socializes too much..." written on more than one report card. The point I'm making is that I don't feel like I leave an impression. I tread so lightly through life trying to avoid headache, heartache, and drama that I never leave a footprint. Now that I have children, I live even further from the edge. I know that I leave an impression with my children. That's evident when Ava says "whatevs" or Maria rolls her eyes at High School Musical 3.

Maybe this is why I've chosen social work. Maybe I have grandiose ideas of the change that I'll be a part of. I hope, hope, HOPE that I never become so detached and burned out that I forget this. I'm not saying that I'm shooting for some legacy, but I would love to think I sometimes leave a positive impression...even if we only interact once.

That's all for now.

OH! One more thing: I'm changing my music up this weekend. Any songs I should keep? Any I should definitely consider thinking about possibly getting rid of? If you read this, let me! I'm talking to you Naperville, and you Santa Rosa, and you Dallas!!