Look at those dimples!
I almost always get along with people whose names end with an A. My address book proves it: Afeefa and Maria and Ajna and Selma (hey, I just came across this awesome article – Selma in the NYT!) and Decora and Andrea and Myra and girl Maya and boy Maya and Kira the farmer (oh my gosh look at hilariously awesome Kira here) and Jessica the farmer and Anya and Tanya (not the one you New Paltzers are thinking of) and Lisa Q (not Lisa P though) and Rebecca R (not so much Rebecca T, she’s a bit of a flake) and Joanna in Philly and Leah – for a while I thought her name was Lea, OK? – and Christina and Khaela and Marla and Sylvia who cuts my hair while singing songs in Portuguese about making love to her Brazilian girlfriend and my childhood favorite teacher Barbara, and of course – Deena and Pohanna, my sisters-out-law.
Wow, I really enjoyed thinking about and Googling all my “A” friends.
Seriously, a lot of “A” friends for a girl who never socializes, no? I’ve collected them over the years. Afeefa and Anya I snagged in college, and I still adore both of them. Ajna and Christina have done or do my deliveries, both are complete cutie pies (Megan, the other delivery woman, is a cutie pie too, for the record). Selma is my BFF, so is Pohanna, though we don’t talk that often. Serious friends here, people. Might it be because my name ends with A too? Are you friends with people whose names end with what your name ends with?
Am I drunk, why am I going on and on about this? My god.
Anyway, the A thing is probably just because I like women so much.
In addition, even though I resolutely do not believe in astrology, it must be noted that I am a Pisces and my birthday book is crammed with friends whose birthdays are in the Cancer range (Megan from college and Ajna and Jacob and Maya and Lacey and Gwynneth [not that one, this one grew up in Africa, the – currently atheist – child of missionaries who won’t make seitan by hand because it uses so much water and she remembers having to haul water buckets growing up] and lovely Katy and Danny and John and Than and Anya and Rosemarie.).
Therefore (I am finally getting to the point), my new sous chef had two good things going for her already – Veronica, born July 7th. Rather mindblowingly, she was born July 7th 1990, but even though she does indeed make born-in-the-70s me feel ancient, her incredible awesomeness has overcome that.
Homeschooled child not going to college because she wants to be a vegan chef and sees no reason to put herself in debt for an irrelevant education, listener of good music, teller of stories that include sentences like “I mean, I was just 15 at the time…but maybe he thought I was older because I had a pink mohawk?” writer of a hilarious and awesome blog, resolute non-driver, amazingly rare non-flaky 18-year-old, speedy with a knife and excellent listener of overly long, rambling directions – I like Veronica so much that even though I know she reads this blog I am going to publicly share my happiness that she exists with the entire online world.
I guess I shouldn’t, but who cares:
Yay for Veronica, may our work together be long and fruitful.