Asseyez-vous.

This will be me tomorrow in the Con Law exam (I'm the one busy talking; you may have to right-click, Copy Shortcut, and paste the URL). I love the total composure the female newscaster displays, like she'd go on looking at her con law notes/ "In other news, firefighters..." rehearsed speech even if she were dead. Reminds me of Emily Jennings. Yes, Jenninea, the woman in the front on the left -- that's you during exams. Totally composed. Red, cold hands. Cheekbones that could cut diamonds, were there any diamonds in Stuart 315. And the guy on the right who doesn't know what to do with himself is the perfect foil to that serenity.

Life is good. For some reason, I'm not worried about this exam. It's already five o'clock on Friday in my head; I don't know if this has anything to do with it, but I got to speak briefly with the three Male Sanctuarians with whom I habitually take the air. Side note: Bry, Josh King says you must meet us in Rwanda. Apparently, he's selling spots like indulgences -- his words, not mine. I'd email you about it but who knows how that will go. Anyway, he says he's got it in his head that the only way he's gonna make it out of the house once we get there is if we go out first and don't get shot by poachers, which is what he thinks is going to happen. We're bait to him. And if you don't come, I'll be bait all by myself, yada yada...he has no idea how well I can fight off poachers on my own, methinks. Side note over. Kenji also got some airtime with the JC, as follows:

Kenji: When are your exams?
JC: Tomorrow and Friday.
Kenji: Hm. Well, I have to run to Bible study. Maybe I'll pray for you there. Maybe.
JC: Hm. Well, I'm getting free BSO tickets. Maybe you'll get one. Maybe.

I'm just continually in awe of how blessed I've been to know the people I do. I know I do a poor job at times of letting the friends I have in immediate surroundings know how much I appreciate them -- and Michael, happy my-half-birthday! my vote is for "Kim" -- but it's always easier to know what you have somewhere else than it is to know what you have standing in front of you, twisting the bottom of her T-shirt and calling your name absentmindedly. Here, World; here's a great, big hug from JC, Jr. Good night, all!


(Respondeat Superiors, yes, that is the link I sent you; too bad I can't code to save the left testicle of the albino one-legged jackrabbit! Yes, I just said testicle. No, I don't know why.)