Not a huge amount to say. I wrote today, called Becky Jo, and talked to her about my book. I was like, Do you even want to hear about it? and she was like, YES PLEASE I’M DYING TO KNOW! So I told her the very long version, beginning in 2004 and ending this afternoon. I paced back and forth the entire first floor, literally getting so worked up I couldn’t breathe, and I told her practically every little word of what I had. At the end, there was a moment of silence.

“What do you think?” I asked. Timid.

“I think. that. is THE BEST BOOK I’VE EVER HEARD IN MY LIFE.”

“YOU LIKE IT? IT’S NOT TOO STUPID OR CHEESY?”

“IT’S BRILLIANT!” she exclaimed. “I’ve NEVER heard anything like it, ever, EVER. I CAN’T WAIT TO READ IT!”

“WAIT NO LONGER! I’M SENDING IT TO YOU!”

“GREAT!”

“FANTASTIC!”

And then we laughed for about six minutes straight. I always laugh so hard on the phone that my ribs ache and I get dizzy. “Remember how we used to write together?” I said.

“YES. I would come over to your house, and we’d sit at the kitchen table, and we’d write for, like, HOURS.”

“I know. Like, our little sheets of paper, and our black pens.”

“They were all about boys,” she said. “And making out.”

“Oh, I KNOW! And we didn’t know exactly what went on.”

“It would be like: And then they met and then they made out for an HOUR and then they did IT and then they made out FOREVER.”

“I KNOW!” I squealed. Oh my God, I’m seriously cracking up just thinking about it now. “We were such raunchy kids.”

“I know, it always got so racy on page 2.” She laughs and then sighs. “Man, if my mom only knew how tame we were.”

In my story, there is a very long-running romance, and I told her if I ever got on Oprah (that is now my life goal: be on Oprah for something good, and not because I’m the woman who didn’t know her husband was gay), I’ll bring Becky Jo on and that will be PROOF that relationships can endure forever. Like twelve years with no contact.

Jason has been bringing Rock Band into work for the office to play on their lunch breaks. The first time, most people were too embarrassed to try, but after they warmed to the idea, they play all the time. Everyone wants him to take it tomorrow for their Christmas party. The office’s party coordinator (I imagine her like Angela) was initially annoyed that it was popular, because I guess she had other games planned.

I love Rock Band. I still haven’t gotten any better at singing. Today, I did “Dani California”– 98% on expert– but at the very last chorus my voice actually gave out, and it feels like my lungs haven’t been able to get a full breath since. I felt like I was gasping on the phone with Becky Jo. “I’m sorry I’m BREATHING SO HEAVILY,” I began, which sent her into peals of laughter, even before I got to the part about the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Jason has gotten two shirts from coworkers for Christmas. One says “Noise Hazard: Ear Protection Recommended“, which is because he’s so loud on help desk calls. He loves it. The other one is a Bojangles Chicken shirt, which is where the men eat out like three times a week (it’s directly behind their office, so they walk). I was wearing the Bojangles shirt a day or so ago.

ELIAS: Hey! Your shirt!

BECCA: Yeah?

ELIAS: I know how that goes! “Hello… I will take your order… I would like a bunsh of chicken and food in a box. OKAY. That is good… You give me five dollars. Here you go… Have a good day.” THAT IS HOW IT GOES! I WEMEMBERED!

BECCA: What do you mean how it goes?

ELIAS: YOUR SHIRT!

BECCA: Wait, were you reciting a scene? Like, Scene From Bojangles?

ELIAS: YES! I REMEMBER THAT MOVIE!

BECCA: It’s not a MOVIE. It is your LIFE.

Whenever he makes me crazy, he pulls out something like that and I wonder what I did for entertainment before.

Addie is– like, such a person. I mean, an actual person. She collects makeup, which I think is how I’m going to potty train her. Cosmetic rewards. She has an old compact with a puff and a little powder in it, which she will apply to her face for up to fifteen minutes at a time, and Strawberry Lip Smackers. She carries it all in a little purse. She LOVES when you tell her she looks beautiful. She lights up. When she wakes up in the morning, she stands behind her door fully accessoried and dressed, knocking to be let out. She always bursts out, announcing: “HIII! It’s MEEEE! GIMME A HUG!” I love her. I love them both so much.

Speaking of things I love, Jason just ran out to get me a holiday treat of sugar wafers and Diet Pepsi. So. Now you know what I’ll be up to the rest of the night.