I got another letter from Melissa today - why the woman can’t join the rest of us in the age of email, I’ll never understand. Okay, I understand that the act of putting pen to paper feels more real to people, but come on! It takes, what, an hour? Two? To write a letter as long as the ones she sends, and it would take half that, a QUARTER of that time to just bang out an email. I’m debating whether or not to respond, in either format. Maybe I’ll send her a postcard.
Anyway, I’ve been feeling pretty blah lately, and I was thinking the best way to combat that would be to have a dinner party - anyone interested? I thought I’d make Mexican food, since what I have in mind is relatively easy to serve buffet style, and invite all my friends. I want to fill my apartment with conversation and laughter, so let’s make it happen!
In other news, Toby has a performance coming up, and I'm pretty sure I'm more excited about it than he is. He always tells me "Mom, a real choir boy gives the same performance every time - perfection", but it's obvious he's quoting the choir master when he says it. I can't get over how damn good he is - Toby, not Richard the choir master. I never thought, when I was listening to Toby cry to be fed when he was a baby, that his voice would turn out to sound the way it does. It's pretty humbling, really.
Add to that the fact that his mother could probably break wine glasses with her horrible singing, and Toby's a very special boy indeed.