Write Now, Be Embarrassed Later

Let's hope this isn't overkill, but I'm so happy, I can't help but want to share my joy with the international blogging community, my adoring fans, anyone who'll read, etc.
Today was one of those days where everything was right in the world. Well, of course not everything, but still one of those happy days where you get one pleasant surprise after another and you find yourself wondering, "Who am I to lead such a charmed life?"
Oh, some of it may not seems so remarkable to the untrained eye-- like me visiting with the cabinet guy (the cherry cabinets are going to be GORGEOUS-- I'm so lucky!) and picking out my countertops, then finding the perfect tile to go with it, and a salesman who is basically throwing in the glue and grout for free. Some would say this is just dumb luck, but you learn to appreciate it when you've got these awesome upgrades to your domecile and they are completely budget-friendly. I promise, I promise. Pictures of the house will be posted soon. This whole not having a digital camera -thing is kind of cramping my style after all.
But as our friend Ron Popeill would say, "Wait... there's more."
Even I-- despite my propensity for what my friend Amanda calls "chronic optimism"-- would not feel compelled to pour out my feelings to strangers based solely on my housing developments. So, apologizing for the long intro, let me tell you what really made my day--
I came home from my Albuquerque errands to find several pieces of mail waiting in my room. Chief amongst them was a large package from a man I've not talked to since probably March. And I've missed him. And even though I figured it was for Christmas, I lost all self-restraint and tore open the envelope. Inside I found two beautiful treasures-- a calendar showcasing the motherland (Poland, of course), and a Christmas card, written in the very distinctive, masculine scrawl of a hand I truly love. I love the calendar, but I loved the card more. I was frightened this very important man was out of my life forever (do to my own fault, naturally) and I was beginning to think he was going to be shelved into the category of "someone I used to love with whom I don't speak any more." I've been blessed. There aren't too many people in my life I've gone to the trouble of actually caring for who slip through the cracks to the point I don't hear from them. Boys I've dated, girls I've shared secrets with-- even if I don't talk to them often, it's not odd for me to call them up for a quick chat, and vice versa. This one, though, nearly got away. And he was the kind of friend you NEED-- someone who makes you want to be so good that you're sure you'll never measure up, but you'll die trying. I don't know why he had that effect on me, but he did.
I really began to feel the profound sense of loss during the demise of my last relationship. When I held up the guy I'd been seeing next to the truly good men I know, the difference was night and day. Oh, it's not that my former kissing-partner is such a terrible person. I imagine he'll turn into something wonderful. But Andrew (yes, Andrew... and if you are a stalker and have been secretly reading about all my highs and lows and not telling me, you're back in the doghouse-- just kidding), who only fell into the category of "friend," just stands as such a beacon of goodness, it's a wonder the boy doesn't have an Elvis-like following. I'm sure he'd say I was exaggerating, but he is just so GOOD. He's handsome. He's smart. He's motivated and a self-starter. When he noticed a smoke stack at BYU and all the pollution it put out, he did his own research and presented a plan to lower harmful emissions or something else I didn't understand. He has gone and served my people, and I would love him for that alone, but he helped me find a bathroom in Prague when I thought I was at death's door. He's carried my luggage and carried my load. We've sat together in an English lit class and laughed at our professor and then sent that same professor a postcard we picked up together in Warsaw. Once, in a note he wrote, "Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, brown paper packages and Rachel Sego." It was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.
And I know it isn't fair. I've always had him on a pedestal he didn't ask to be put on, but my admiration for him exceeds nearly all others. I think I got disgruntled about some little thing and pridefully let go. And it hurt when he didn't grasp on for dear life. Why should he? But this dearest friend of mine, in his charming and clever way, has reconnected us through a place we love in such a way that I'm sure he knows I'll think of him every day. But I already did.