My very good friend, Dr. C, had her birthday yesterday. To read a beautiful and humorous tribute to her, I will direct you here. To read a rather stumbling, but heartfelt version, continue reading.
My best friends have all impacted my life in profound (as well as unprofound) ways and Dr. C. is no exception. For one, she definitely helped in my development as a foodie. She introduced me to Cooking Light, my all time favorite magazine. She also helped developed my palate such that, thanks to her, I have a deep and abiding love for beans, and kale, and quinoa. (Much to her chagrin however, I still do not like tofu,
Dr. C is generous, tolerant, and accepting. She understands how to respect other beliefs. She has definitely influenced how I see the world and view other people. Thank you!
Like Yola described, we sat around a lot in the doorway of Dr. C’s room and talked, and browsed the dictionary, and wrote bad poetry. So, in honor of her birthday, I will post some of that random poetry generated from one such occasion. Specifically, it was one of the first nights in our first apartment (what did you name it Yola?)—a partially unfinished basement apartment that overlooked the bay.
The unfinished room
Will it ever be finished?
Good karma it will
(I would like to make a note that good karma is not an appropriate word to describe that apartment experience. In fact, Dr. C’s room was never really finished.)
The view of the bay
A soothing balm when rent’s due
Alt 1: is it worth it? No!
Alt 2: A changing canvas
And because yellow is always a color that I will associate with Dr. C:
Dr. C’s towel
A daisy’s center
Yeah, those sessions didn’t exactly generate good poetry, but they did solidify some amazing friendships. So, Dr. C, I hope you can rejoice in the fact that you are loved by your friends! I miss you!