Bad news travels fast, but not really fast, or that it traveled at all, just that I finally decided to check my blog roll (aka Hello World) and get some updates on C's life. Would text but. Not going to. Sorry about your bad stuff. The next person I come across with an iPhone I'm grilling till I get at least the serial number and a full view through all pictures. Absolutely. Unbelievable. Totally lost complete respect and all trust with the world. Like really people?? I'm sorry, you're not actually entitled to things, anything really, yes, even an iPhone, which you see sitting around, much less next to someone's bed. Like what? No, that isn't yours, I don't understand. I've never been so happy with those Fraternity boys and their reassuring protectiveness.
Go to hell, theif. thief? Thief.
I've spent the past few days MIA myself, in this small-beyond-small seaside town of Frankfort, Michigan, where I have been eating big breakfasts, meeting more old people than I've ever seen in my entire life, watching my grandpa get older and sicker than I'd ever thought possible, and my grandma love him more than I'd ever thought imaginable. Taking hot saunas after surfing cold waves all night, napping in sun-soaked couches and sleeping on sand just footsteps away from our house. I get bored about every five minutes, irritated by my talk-talk-talking grandma every four, and find myself sinking deeper and deeper into the mental retreat that is this week every one without looking back. The first two days I tried scoping out for cute 20-something locals, but when I realized I would probably not be any more successful at the community church fish-broil supper than I was at the 10 a.m-farmer's market in town, I sort of lost interest. I leave my phone everywhere and barely ever charge it. I've learned this town doesn't go by the number on the clock, but by how low in the sky the sun is. I've worked out more times than I have since New Year's and the only music I've listened to is from the 77-going-on-21-year-old-potbellied-barefoot guy playing his guitar on the pier after lunch every afternoon.
If there's one word to describe this place it's small, and if there were two more- slow and enchanting. While the town is so small it doesn't have one stoplight, the houses are so big, it looks like God set up a bunch of magical doll houses, all with pretty front porches, right next to the beach, and all a sidewalk away from a happy little street they call downtown, where everyone buys jewelry and knows my grandma. And here I'm "Phil's only girl, she's 20, can you believe that? College, that's right. Boy, she's radiant." People are sweet here, if I've ever seen it. But they also tend to do that 3rd person thing when they're talking about you while they're with you, kind of like you're like a lime green bicycle on display in the window or something.
Speaking of lime green things with wheels, my grandpa
Well, I need to go to sleep if I'm going to be up for the
Best wishes on new boys, no phones and loving life! It's really not so bad when you can manage to laugh back a little.
