Look who got to meet Ruby St. Germaine live and in person:
Rachel!!! (Not me. The other Rachel. The Short Rachel. Beloved old college roommate and bosom friend. And sorry, Rac, this picture makes you look like a body builder. I will confirm to the world that you are wee tiny. It's just a freakishly bad camera angle. Also, doesn't Ruby look dreadful? It may be time for an intervention.)
She's in town with her fam, living it up at Disneyland. But we managed to get together on Monday night for some mediocre gelato and not mediocre at all hours or gabbing. One day a teleporter will be invented and I will be able to zip over to her house for an afternoon of eating ice cream and watching North and South. But for now we must be content with our sometimes yearly meet-ups.
One of the many things we talked about was our propensity for crying. We have diagnosed it as Sad Clown Syndrome. It's when you're a really happy person and you love to laugh and joke and you think you're a relatively fun gal to be around but you also cry on a very regular basis. Like, nearly every day something moves you to tears, happy or sad. It's not like you're trying to cry, or that you're depressed, or that you can just stop it whenever you want to. You can't. This is just how your body reacts to things. The Blue Bird of Happiness could be nestled deep within your heart and yet you hear a song on the radio that is particularly beautiful, or someone says something nice about your hair, or maybe you're a little stressed, or the sunrise was just so pretty, or you've had a long day and you find that you're all out of bread so you can't have peanut butter on toast and suddenly,bam, you're in tears. We both have this condition and we spent a good chunk of time laughing over our public breakdowns and how inadequate a church bathroom is for composing oneself. Look, we just feel things more deeply than most, okay? You all can just go about your life being dead inside. Or you can join us when we start a Sad Clown Syndrome support group. I'm going to try to get Kleenex to sponsor it.
Thanks for a great visit, Rachel! I'll say it again: you're the shorter sister I always wanted.