Can You Tell Me the Color of Daylight?

     During an "up" I can be quite pleasant.  Even outside of one, sometimes I am still pleasant.  To keep good things going, I sometimes do good things for others.  Like donations for cancer, buying girl scout cookies, the usual.  I try not to pass up the attempt.  One thing I've started doing has been a lot of fun.  I write letters to customers who are nice.  I have always had customer service jobs.  It's a mega-crappy thing to do; and I think everyone should have had to do this, or work food service, or another similar hang-myself-now job.  When I am lucky enough to get someone who really makes my day, I send them a note (my job gives me access to their addresses).  One in particular stood out so amazingly, I gave her a hint as to my address.  I figured if she cared enough, she could find out who I was.  Well, she wrote me back, and now I have sort of forced her to be my pen-pal.  (I am a sucker for handwritten letters.)

     She came into my store yesterday!!!  She had no idea who I was (she knows the name of the author, but doesn't know the name of the cashier); but she was, again, as fantastic as ever.  Made my freakin' day.
In other news, I will be having coffee with a friend from over at http://laminatedfragments1063.blogspot.com/ who was a friend from high school.  We went our separate ways, but those different paths do kind of the same thing, like a northwestern forest as compared to a northeastern one.  It'll be so nice to have a friend again.
     Tonight, I'm pretty sure there will be drinking again.  The wife in pink velour has a red-headed friend who is having a birthday.  [back story:  DaVinci is friends with an assortment of people; I get lumped with their wives.]  I've ditched so many "girls nights out" that I am a little obligated to go to this one.  Look, I'd like to be friends with these women, I would.  I try.  Trust me, I do not have so many friends that I am willing to pass on the opportunity to have another.  Some people were made to remain acquaintances.  They are meeting at six for dinner and drinks, and I get off work at six-thirty.  By the time I get there, they will have already had their food and at least one drink each.  I will drink a lot to catch up.
     Speaking of drinking.  I did not drink last night.  I should have, I believe.  I awoke at the shining time of three-fifty.  I know it was three-fifty, because usually the dog lays on my face until I wake, and this morning I could see the clock.  I get fidgety when wide awake and stuck in bed.  DaVinci banished me to the couch, where I flipped through each channel so many times, that the number of times I looped may have actually outnumbered the number of channels we have.  I eventually went outside and played fetch with my dog.  [We have two, but one is so obviously his.]  A five a.m. squeaky toy is the best way to make friends with the neighbors.  When I eventually got around to going back inside, I bothered DaVinci until he woke up.  I'm such a good, nice wife.  He had to be at work for eight, so he was going to wake eventually.  We watched Choke (based on the book by Chuck Palahniuk).  That's a movie with a very well-crafted storyline.  It was amazing. 
     Now I am at work killing time, as usual.  We're switching my dad's old car to my name so we can be a two-car family again.  We have two unique cars, in a lame kind of way.  I have a metallic blue Chevy Tracker, and he has a black Honda Del Sol.  Each car is so small, we can fit them BOTH under our single-car carport at the same time.  Mine is named Jamie Wingo, after the gay adult male actor, because he (the Tracker) can always seem to make Journey and/or Petula Clark come on the radio.   I know, right?
This Sunday is going to be the coffee day with my friend.  He's a grad student now, as I should be.  Get off my back already, I'm applying.  He does lit, but I'm pretty sure he reads different things different ways.  DaVinci is so happy I have a friend to talk books with again.  So am I.  Hopefully, in a few months I'll be able to ditch the weekends of husbands-ignoring-their-wives-to-watch-sports-while-kids-run-around-like-a-pack-of-retarded-bonobos with the excuse of "I'm sorry, but I really have a lot of school work to do."
Wish me luck with that!