Not Really

Re-breaking in my sandals. ouch.

Slowly but surely, the earth is blooming and ruffling its feathers. Warming up. Waking up.

Elder Hill's favorite season is spring. Because he's spending two years in Fiji (and other various areas in the South Pacific), it's hot all year. That sounds nice (and I bet it is) but I know I would miss all the seasons. Yes... even blasted winter.

I haven't heard from Elder Hill in three weeks! And there was no email this week. I have no idea why. But his birthday is coming up soon, and I need to mail something for him. It will arrive late, but we're used to this delay. To communication in sl...ow...mo...tion...

I'm going to be nostalgic, mmmkay?

So Elder Hill's turning 20. I was thinking what a nice age 20 is. It's comfortable. I can't go to bars, but I don't really drink anyway.

What? I "don't really drink"? I don't drink AT ALL! I'm Mormon!

One time, someone asked Paul if he drank. He said, "not really." Later he regretting saying that, but we laughed about that a lot anyway.

In other news:

Somewhere between studying verb conjugations and twittering, my hot pink knock-off sharpie marker got on my monitor. Soy triste.

-Megan