Monday was my cousin Tom's 16th birthday. At about 11pm, I called him and left a voicemail that went something like this:
"Happy, happy, happy birthday, Tom! This is Kelsey. I'm sorry it's taken me until eleven to call you and wish you a happy birthday. I've been thinking about you all day and just haven't called. I'm so thankful you were born, and I love that both of our birthdays are in December. I never need to be reminded that it's your birthday on December first, actually, because - actually, I don't think I've ever told you this story - but when you were born, I was in second grade and the day you were born I got up in front of the whole class and made an announcement that I had a new cousin and everybody clapped. And I'll never forget that I'm seven years and 345 days older than you because of that. Anyway, I hope you had a great day, and I love you and I'll talk to you soon." Tom sent me a Facebook message the next day saying that he got my message, and thank you, and it took him almost his whole drive to school to listen to the whole thing.
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I just completed my very first legitimate 40-hour work week (not counting camp, since...well, it's just different). Five days into it, I can honestly say I love this job. I already love the other people working in the Treehouse and I've met maybe 1/8 of the total staff. I ski every day. I've met kids from around the globe - Slovenia, South Africa, Russia, Peru, Argentina, Boston (heh). Aspen and Snowmass are both stunning. I'm a lucky girl.
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The guy in front of me at the grocery store tonight bought a box of saltines, a half-gallon of chocolate milk and a sixer of Corona. AB says that's what happens "when these Latinos come up here and their mothers have been cooking for them their whole lives."
"Happy, happy, happy birthday, Tom! This is Kelsey. I'm sorry it's taken me until eleven to call you and wish you a happy birthday. I've been thinking about you all day and just haven't called. I'm so thankful you were born, and I love that both of our birthdays are in December. I never need to be reminded that it's your birthday on December first, actually, because - actually, I don't think I've ever told you this story - but when you were born, I was in second grade and the day you were born I got up in front of the whole class and made an announcement that I had a new cousin and everybody clapped. And I'll never forget that I'm seven years and 345 days older than you because of that. Anyway, I hope you had a great day, and I love you and I'll talk to you soon." Tom sent me a Facebook message the next day saying that he got my message, and thank you, and it took him almost his whole drive to school to listen to the whole thing.
*
I just completed my very first legitimate 40-hour work week (not counting camp, since...well, it's just different). Five days into it, I can honestly say I love this job. I already love the other people working in the Treehouse and I've met maybe 1/8 of the total staff. I ski every day. I've met kids from around the globe - Slovenia, South Africa, Russia, Peru, Argentina, Boston (heh). Aspen and Snowmass are both stunning. I'm a lucky girl.
*
The guy in front of me at the grocery store tonight bought a box of saltines, a half-gallon of chocolate milk and a sixer of Corona. AB says that's what happens "when these Latinos come up here and their mothers have been cooking for them their whole lives."
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