standard excellent

yesterday was somethin' special, that's for sure. today, standard excellent. it's interesting to note that i've had my fair share of lost-pants, stolen disco-ball, trip to "Vision," dance party type nights in my life. my friends are fucking fantastic. and Amy is no exception.

frankly, i couldn't be here without her.

i showed up on Friday to my own little room fully furnished with drawers and quilts and a cozy futon. i have my own shelves and plugs for charging and a drawer in the fridge. all because Amy is Amy.

after giggling through my post about last night, amy spent the day laughingly petitioning me to write a proper character piece on her, i guess to make sure that my "reader" doesn't think that she's some drunken slag.

"can you just take out the part about when he mentioned motorboating? i don't want to have to explain to my mom what that means," she asked.

"uh, amy, why would your mom be reading my blog? there are like eight people who actually read this. are you going to forward it to her?"

"no, but. well, he did say it, i guess. wow. what the fuck? what was i thinking? who is going to read this, again? ugh. maybe if i see it in writing i will see how ridiculous it is. 'it' being my life." she chatted on laughing at herself and laughing about last night.

so, reader, if you know me, then you know Amy. she's sort of like we all are (or were) and, of course, i love every minute of it.

our conversation today went from happiness about finding the lost wallet, silly choices, and hangovers to a new found joy in mixing compost, a potential second date next week, and planning our dinner menu. i've been delighted and amused with how her entire wardrobe is made up of pretty stuff given to her by same-sized friends. or, instead of tupperware, the kitchen is full of jars of all sizes filled with leftovers and lunches for the next day.

"is this really almond butter?" i asked.

"yes, but that's not jelly, it's salad dressing."

this morning we rushed out the door at 9 a.m. to go pick up an Ikea-closet that one of her friends had donated to Project Room. although i was less than pleased to be upright at 9 a.m., it was just like Amy to be awake and ready for the opportunity of Saturday, full of that electric Amy energy that she carries with her all of the time.

by mid morning we were already on the bikes and off to the farmer's market to pick up some tomato plants and herbs for the backyard. although it was Amy's idea to make a small garden, she was like, "hmmm...what do you think. i have no idea what i'm doing." unluckily for her, i have no idea either. we just wandered a while before i made some decisions. it's just so easy to make decisions together -- sometimes i did it; sometimes she did. after a bit of digging and watering, things were haphazardly planted.

as we cycled through the city, we ran into five people amy knew -- from work, from volunteering, from her network. she's only been in this city for 10 months, and she is NW DC. she grows roots and makes connections. her calendar and her life is full.

the afternoon was spent with one of amy's many friends, talking about relationships and eating chips and salsa. it's just so easy to be with amy and her friends. an instant, easy familiarity.

now we're home. exhausted and enjoying some Pandora. as i click-click on the keyboard, she keeps pulling up the jumble.life. asking me why i keep giggling.

"did you make a new post? it makes me nervous when you ask me a question about my life, and then 'click-click-click,'" she says. "are you writing about me?"

of course i am. you're totally worth writing about.