Hope and Marshmallows

Going to bed, with some renewed hope. I don't know if hoping is a survival tactic, a realistic endeavor or fool's play, but it feels better than not hoping. Good night.

TCOY

1. Walked Sug around Edgemont Park once.
2. Boot camp in the soccer dome! Love being with my friends and Patsy. We boxed today.
3. Walked Sug around block once.
4. Shampooed, put on nice outfit and accessorized.
5. Turkey chili.
6. Private Benjamin with H. and Figgy. 

Oopsy Daisy: After lunch, hungry for something sweet, ate too many marshmallows that I dunked in leftover melted chocolate. As I sunk my teeth into their squishy comfort, I realized that part of their appeal is that they are uniform, perfectly shaped, billowy pillows. Not scary, uneven, surprising or ragged. Clear-cut, you could say. Life may be messy but marshmallows are not. They're like the sections of a Hershey Bar, punched out in the candy factory to be even-steven. I hope my friend Michael from boot camp doesn't see this note. Alice, you can't do that!, he might say, like the time I told him about a special mocha drink with whipped cream that I like getting on Cape Cod. I like Michael. He's funny. And I mind way less hearing him tell me I can't do that than hearing it from H. When Michael says it, I laugh. When H. says it, I want to cry. I think it's his delivery.