Got a letter today telling me Rachel is gifted. I knew! I knew! I knew she was cursed like me! What it means, I don't know. I'm still trying to figure that shit out.

(Gotta meet her at the bus now. Maybe I'll add to later.)


Addendum, as the folks call it.

She wants to have a dog farm and be a police woman. That's good. I didn't know what I wanted to be when I was a kid. Still don't. I've spent over a decade dealing pepperonis for customers and loving it, I'm about to be handed a degree in ... what was it again? Oh yeah, healthcare services, and my dream is to make at least one movie in this lifetime. Why is this becoming about me?

I tell the kid all the time to write. She has a crazy wild imagination. She's like Junie B. Jones on acid. High schoolers would have to see the school psychologist if they doodled the things she draws, such as an elderly couple unable to read the sign that says 'Beware of the Dinosaur' (who happens to be lurking around the corner), and monsters appearing to either be giving birth or losing their guts. Not the typical house, sun, tree, smiley-faced stick person composition.

When she was five she said with a smile that she had had a dream that she was having a dream that she was having a dream, etc.

I'm in awe. Yay for the kid.