Pursuant to the trend, for my guest entry I was going to talk about either my weekend or my life in general. However, since in terms of excitement, my life rates slightly above watching the grass grow and slightly below watching paint dry, I opted to talk about something more specific (and interesting).

When I was 7 my parents divorced. Never really seemed like a big deal. Not really then, and not really now. Either I'm lucky and very well rounded, or I'm blocking out scores of bad memories which will come back to haunt me at some inopportune time. In any case, following the divorce my mother had a slew of bad boyfriends. There was Rick, who had a record, a motorcycle, and a great sense of humor. When they broke up my mom told me that it was because they argued over who had to do the dishes. I later found out that he stole her money and ran off. Same thing though, I guess. Then there was Chuck, who was actually not a bad guy. Not sure why that ended, actually. And then about a year later came Gary. At this point we kids were pretty accustomed to meeting our mother's boyfriends. And so it didn't seem like that big a deal when she moved in with him when I was 9 years old. Gary brought with him two girls, V and D. V was beautiful, a teenager, and completely intimidating�only because I was a shy little kid. She was pretty, smart, opinionated, and I almost immediately worshipped her. She wasn't afraid to talk back to her Dad, something which I only daydreamed of. V lived with my mother and Gary, but D lived in another province with her mom. I must have been maybe 11 or 12 years old when I finally met D, and to tell the truth, I can't remember my first impression. It was sort of a rocky beginning, I know this. And we saw D, and V when she moved back to her Mom's, infrequently. At this point though, we were not close by any stretch of the imagination. As I got older, into my teens, and D visited more frequently, we began to start some kind of a tentative friendship. Being at the age we were though, it wasn't the most stable, nor the healthiest relationship possible. What we had most were laughs. Most frequently laughs at the expense of others, or at the expense of D, to her annoyance. For example, the time at the cottage when D inadvertently pierced my brother's ear with her errant fish hook. I think she still feels bad about that, but everyone else finds it funny.

When D came to live with us (my mother, Gary, and my brother and sister) a couple of years ago, it was somewhat awkward�in the beginning. We were accustomed to visits, as opposed to living together. It was rough at first, not really for me, but D was obviously homesick and trying to get settled in a household which was anything but stable. As time went on however, D came to feel like a natural part of a family that before, had traditionally consisted of my family, and her father. Fast forwarding to today, D is one of my best friends, and one of the people I hang out with most. D makes me laugh, makes me think, and helps me to realize that I'm not the smartest person in whole damn world. Contrary to my own belief. I know that without hesitation D would do anything to help me out, she is the most generous and selfless person I know. Aside from my mother, whose only rivals are third world doctors, and the late Mother Teresa. For her birthday last year, D gave US presents. Unreal eh? Thing is, D just LIKES to give. And that is only one of the things that I love about her. She's constantly hilarious, frequently wise, and always there for me if I need someone to talk to. Which may not necessarily be often, but I always know it's an option. This means a lot in my life. When D goes home in a week and a half, I'm just realizing�I'm going to miss her A LOT. We may not be sisters in blood, but we are most definitely sisters of the heart.

Please excuse the cheese factor of the above guest entry! It's been awhile since I've written a journal entry, as evidenced by my long defunct diaryland journal, fourthplace. My apologies.

Happy 500th Di!!

~Erin