I miss Erin.
And from that sentence above, you can infer who is the author of this blog, today.
She's getting creative with the nicknames, as well. Gracearoni, Graceland, [which happens to be the name of Elvis Presley's home. All too predictable of her.] Graceamania, Gracetastic, Graceanaspiostic [apperantly, her vocabulary grade in English rose.]
Her hippie personality is still going strong, butting heads with hippie haters, plastering peace signs to random lockers, working on her giant John Lennon mural on the side of the school building [that the school doesn't know about] and Chrissa is helping her a lot. It's getting colder up in Canada and she threw a tantrum because Kirsten wouldn't let her wear her gladiator sandals to school anymore, and she sent me a strongly worded email of every detail of her fight, including how many swear words she used and how many times Kirsten threatened to take away her iPod.
Erin sent me a picture message via email that included her family's school pictures [Erin found a way to daze the photographer so she could give a peace sign to the camera] They turned out perfectly.
Grace's Chrissa emailed me.
Grace! What's up? I'm great, and I was just rummaging through my art supplies and I found this beautifiul poem that Erin wrote. I decided to share it with you.\
Grace, the name that flies
Carries me to the true blue
Skies above
Her wings like a swan with
the heart of an angel.
Sunlight beckons us to
Come sail away
It made me want to cry.
-Grace
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