Proof My Dad Is Awesome:

So... I got two packages in the mail today. I knew both of them were coming. One was from my mom with my movie theatre paycheck and some clothes I'd forgotten at home. The other was from my dad, though neither I nor my mom knew what he'd sent me. I opened it. And it was full of ghost turds (packing peanuts, sorry. Apparently the term is something rather unique to my family). After a bit of shaking it, I discovered my tennis racket and pulled it out. But I knew there had to be more in there. So I emptied my trash can and poured the ghost turds into it. Out comes two things of tennis balls (can't play tennis without them, of course), and at the very bottom is another box wrapped in brown paper and packing tape. I open it up, and it's a wooden box, the sort you get clementines in. I open up the top and it's full of bits of newspaper. I stare at it for a bit. I pick one of them up and pull out what's inside.

My dad sent me 65 fresh cherry tomatoes from our garden, each individually wrapped in a square of newspaper. This is officially the most insane package I have ever gotten. (And only about ten of them weren't edible anymore.) It took me about fifteen minutes to unwrap them all. My roomie was so impressed and confused that she called her dad to complain about how he obviously didn't love her. Then I washed and counted the tomatoes. I should've taken pictures. If I find a digital camera, I think I'll recreate the scene. It'd be so worth it.

I <3 my daddy. He's so strange-awesome. Hehehe.

(And, on a totally unrelated note, apparently Princeton has a better understanding of the UofC than I thought. Ah, the endearing insanity of my university. Take that! We have more to complain about! (And we certainly take advantage of it, too.))