my feet smell nice.

Dear Friend,

It's been 3 months since this whole Wisconsin/eating/homebound thing started, and I'm sick of it. I'm still at home, and not better. At all. Actually, things have gotten worse.

I'm all packed and ready to leave for Wisconsin, but the stupid admissions office people won't contact us to tell us when to leave. This whole situation gets me very frustrated.

On a happier note, my friend, Grace, is having her birthday on Tuesday. We're going to have a paint war, a picnic, and go to a thrift store. That is, if I'm still here. I wrote her a poem for her birthday, and would like to post it. So, here it goes:

GRACE
It is on this day honoring your birth
that we throw paint at each other in mirth.
You're a great friend, I hope you know
that how cool you are is something I cannot show,
Just like I can't right a sonnet, you see,
or swim across the Mediterainian Sea,
or survive being stung by a swarm of bees,
or for the rest of my life, just eat peas.
I can't express how neato you are
just like I can't drive a car.
Because, believe me, I've tried
and when I'm on the road, everyone should hide.
Instead of the bus,Trey should give us a ride
as long as he drives on the road, and not on the side
because then we would all die in a horrible crash.
The car would go smash,
my head would go bash,
and funerals cost lots of cash.
If you think that it is easy for me to distract
myself , well that is a fact.
I guess that's all I wanted to say -
just to have a happy birthday,
and Grace Merle Price
YOUR FEET SMELL NICE!

thanks for reading.
Love always,
Sara