I had so much to write moments ago. I had a pickle and peanut butter sandwich for dinner. How did I get there? So much. So much.
When the men from Perry's were cutting down the locust, my grandfather asked me what Marnie would think. His answer made me realize he didn't really listen to a word she said. He guessed what she might have said to him, not what she had thought at all. I am guessing also that she didn't really tell him what she thought anyway.
She used to make sandwiches for us which we would eat on the low bench in front of the fireplace. Always they were on thin white toasting bread. My two favorites were cream cheese and jelly and cream cheese and green olives. At the Gibsons we would mke sandwiches of anything we could find, trying to gross eachother out. Peanut butter and pickles made it through. Tonight's was only the second I have had since I was maybe 8 or 9.
I wrote a recommendation today for Celia Gibson to work on Star Island. I was her manager for maybe 6 months, when I had already quit that job and had started working for her father. Mac Bell wouldn't let me off the hook no matter how much I tried to quit.
I was in quite a mood today but didn't put most of you through it. I took a nice long bath and tried to make myself lovely. I always feel better when I am lovely. My dad still hasn't been admitted to the hospital, his insurance isn't interested in paying for the t-cell treatment. He's just home waiting for them to say yes. It makes me very angry.
I should note that I really like Mick Carr.
Does anybody know yet when exactly the party is?