Bread, Cards, Gum and Talk

Last night I had an odd, short dream. I was walking down a lane to pick up mail from a mailbox that was among a cluster of others. There I met with a high school friend and we opened our mail boxes together. Inside we found fresh loaves of bread. In each of the other two boxes there was also mail. We were both perplexed by this, but took our bread and went back to our homes. The next day we returned to find more bread. The girl informed me that it was my aunt, who enjoys baking, who had been sending the bread and then the dream was over.

Some of you may remember my mention of UNICEF research in my recent entry on human rights. I want to mention that this year’s UNICEF holiday cards are excellent. The five different designs in the package I selected are colorful and have a high cute factor. The profit from the sale of these cards goes toward a very important and dedicated organization that helps countless children across the globe, so if you haven’t sent out cards this season, I’d highly recommend looking for these. I found them in a local grocery store, so I’m assuming they are fairly widely distributed.

When I was in high school I began chewing gum regularly, eventually moving up to at least two pieces a day. It was a harmless addiction, aside from the $1 per week cost for one of the older packs of Max Air (which held 15 rather than 12 pieces), my gum of choice. When I entered university the consistant chewing stopped for no reason I can recall and I only chewed sporatically in the following years. Today I find myself returning the the old habit, buying a pack each week and keeping my breath consistantly fresh. I suppose my choice of addictions indicates my less-than-dangerous personality. I’m not smoking or drinking a pack of anything, afterall.

My birthday and this day following it went well. I was fortunate enough to be able to hang out with my friend Sascha on Friday and tonight I went to dinner with my parents and younger sister. I don’t often have the chance to spend time with most of my dearest friends and less time now with my family. I find my appreciation for their company and our conversations increases over time tremendously. Joining my wanderlust is a longing for deep and open conversation, the sort that requires the proper moments and friends. The stars line up too infrequently and eclipses are made ever holier.