I Can't Fall Asleep To Your Mystery

This weekend I got to spend time with my frustratingly elusive, social butterfly of a friend, Amelia. She and Clayton and I drove around neighboring towns taking pictures of old things and each other, trying to be photographically artistic. We ended up with a few obscene images in the background of some of the pictures thanks to the indiscretions of some local graffiti "artists" and didn't quite make it to all of our anticipated destinations; but nevertheless, it was still a much needed/appreciated day of quality time spent between the "3 best friends that anyone could have" (sorry, I had to).            

I'm obviously not good at not smiling.

                                                                                     
    

     We've all been friends since we were children: Clayton and I, since we were 3 years old; and Amelia and I, since we were in the 6th grade and she asked me to help her run for SGA, which resulted in me reluctantly saying yes because I was too shocked to say no (I hadn't previously had a meaningful conversation with her, that I'm aware of) and then a "spend-the-night-party" where we (and another friend) washed one of her horses and made posters with sayings such as "Vote for A-million-bucks Amelia" and the like... unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory, so I can't recall exactly what they said. Anyway, then I spent the night with her again and had a presumably, divinely-intervened "accident" in her bed, to which she reacted like a mom (which would later also become her nickname), put the sheets in the washer, and said we could sleep in the guest bedroom. I don't think she ever told anyone (aside from her mother); and I'm pretty sure I'm the one who brought it up years later with our friends because I thought it was hilarious. I used the phrase "divinely intervened" because that's the only explanation I can think of as to why I would have peed the bed in the sixth grade at a friend's house. We've been friends ever since.

HAH-LARIOUS

        My and Clayton's story is basically this: her mother babysat me and her and another friend while we were in Bright Beginnings and we've been friends on and off ever since. Although, it probably really started in the 5th grade when I allegedly walked up to her and said "I told my momma bout chu!" which was probably provoked by her calling me a buck-toothed weirdo. Some time after that permanently faded from my memory,  began our tumultuous roller-coaster of a friendship that I wouldn't trade for anything.

The title of this post (which has nothing to do with anything I've written in it) is from the song "Cold December" by Matt Costa... andddd it's awesome.

And lastly, an update on my crafty crafts:

That is the bracelet I made for
Hannah and my window which
is basically done until I decide
to hang it in my apartment next
year and string pictures on it.