Done.

I am done with today.
I was at school for 9 hours. And I didn't even do my Art History exam because my teacher got sick and it was canceled.
I thought about youth this morning. And drank iced tea while Mandy was in math.
I also had some good stuff in my head about Joel. But I can't write it right now. I'm not articulate enough.
Finals is in 1 week. Bah. My last essay is on the effects of married women learning to cook. I'm going Julia Child on my teacher.
We'll see how it goes.
Tomorrow:
Skype date with Hana Rachel.
Baking.
Homework.
Art History cramming with Mandy.
Laundry.
Homework.
Bicycling.
Track&Field in the high school. Hallway runs.
Homework.
Tea.
Prayer.
Homework.
Alright. Goodnight. I am just done with today.

8 cups of coffee.

Dear Fleur.
It was Valentines Day today.
I got one valentine. From Tazza. It was so sweet.
I made breakfast this morning. Sweet milk pancakes. Coffee. Paris tea. Nutella.
Then Jenn and I went for a run in town. We stopped in a consignment store and she tried on prom dresses. She's going to be in a pageant. I thought she looked gorgeous in a little white one. But it was too little. She fell in love with some yellow heels. I tried not to covet the little black v neck tee shirt. Isn't that crazy? Out of a whole store, I want a black v neck tee shirt?
We went to a Mexican bakery after that and ate sweet bread with tapioca filling.
Then I taught class.
Skyped Kirsten and read her "King Bidgood's In The Bathtub."
And now, homework.

This is my favourite holiday.
Love Bella.

Poetry in sleep.

Dear Fleur.
The other night I had this dream. And in it, I wrote this brilliant poem. And everyone liked it. And they told me. And I liked it. And it felt so sweet.
But then I woke up.
And I couldn't remember a single line of that poem. I cried. I was so mad. And I didn't know what to do other than be mad.
Then Nat skyped me. And he wanted me to help him with a song.
Let me make something completely clear at this point:
I AM NOT A POET.
But I like to pretend that I could be. And sometimes, when I help Nat, I almost feel like one. So I jumped at the chance to write a little with the boy playing the ukulele. And I think I got carried away this morning. Because I wrote too much. But I was excited. Because of that dream I had.
And I just have to say,
Thank you Nat.
You make me feel like a poet.
&
SOMETIMES YOU'RE GOING TO FORGET THE POEMS YOU WRITE IN YOUR DREAMS, BUT LIFE GOES ON.
Love from Bella.

Keep on keepin on (R.I.P. Olivia).

Dear Fleur.
Life has been kind of hard lately. To sum it up for you perfectly:
MY LITTLE SISTER'S HAMSTER DIED YESTERDAY.
&
I have run out of chai tea.

Don't tell me I can't cry at this point.

To make us all happier, Ria made pancakes and coffee in the French Press this morning. De-caf isn't my best friend, but he and I can be good acquaintances today.
I think I'll sit and sew on Flora. She's been lonely the past few mornings.
And I'll probably Skype someone's ear off. Because:

(photo via ican'tremember)

Love from Bella.

Heart in my ears.

Dear Fleur.
There is this boy. He looks like this.

(Yes, he is that cute.)

He is a very dear friend. We Skype him. But we have always been webcam-less. Until today. When the mail came. And I opened up a webcam.
I think my heart was pouring out my ears.
I did the spazzy dance in my kitchen.
THANK YOU DAVEY ROSE.
You have just made my bad day better. I'm pleased to be your friend. And I hope we can write French to one another for years and years. I cannot wait for you to see my face. Even if my hair is a mess.
Love from Bell.

socks.

Dear Fleur.
Woke up this morning with my Mamie shaking me by the shoulders.
Rolled out of bed.
Tired eyes.
Piled my hair on top of my head.
Pulled a white knit cable sweater on.
Looked out the french doors and saw the snow on the ground.
& Skyped Sam.

This boy.

(That lovely lady is Kaylene. She's a brilliant soul.)

He's doing fine. Caught a petite cold. But fine.
We talked about socks. And people who hate us. Did you know, not a lot of people hate me? I never thought of that. But then I wonder, how many people actually love me? And I think, if putting all of my pairs of socks on someone's doorstep would make them love me, I would do it. But I'm a ridiculous person. So I don't know.
What would I do to get someone to like me?
Really. How far would I go?
And do people actually like me?
Really. In their hearts?

I LIKE SOCKS TODAY.
I have tube socks running through my head.

Love from Bell.

peppermint hair.

Dear Fleur.
I caught the flu bug with Ria. I hated him.
He's gone now.
But yesterday, I got to Skype a boy in Afrika because of him.
(So maybe I don't really hate him...)

•
she woke up late. even though she'd gone to bed early. she slipped her little fingers around her Bible and opened it. yawned, as she read her passage for the morning. Psalm #105. sweet tasting.
then she folded her hands and prayed. she prayed for a boy in Afrika. a girl named Olivia. and the sun to shine. she prayed for someone who doesn't have a washing machine. for a boy named Nat. and orphans she'd never met.
and then she pulled a little knitted green sweater on and put her hair up. there was little pink paper hearts falling all over her pillow. spilling out of her boxes and books. they made her happy.
she wanted coffee in the french press this morning. but Ria wasn't up to make it. so she just pretended. and was satisfied with a cup of tea and Robert Browning.
she went back to her bedroom and cleaned up the paper hearts as best she could.
but she wouldn't lie to herself.
she kind of liked them all over her bed&blankets.
so she stuffed a few in her pillow for good dreams. and sprinkled the rest in a box for later.
then she went to wash her hair over the side of the bathtub using peppermint shampoo.
it was going to be a good day.
over the flu. with hair that smelled like peppermint. and a box of hearts.
a good day.
•
love from Bella.