It's nice to know that some things in life never change.

So I went to visit Allie yesterday.

Driving down, I was worried things were going to be awkward. I hadn't seen her in six years, had never met her husband, and am generally not a kid person. Some small part of me was also convinced I had changed too much and we no longer had anything in common. I think Allie also had the same worry. (Some of our old friends haven't been the most understanding people on the planet, which I am sure made it worse.)

Luckily, none of that was the case. Her husband, Brandon, greeted me when I showed up, and within five seconds we were having a perfectly normal conversation. I decided instantly that I liked him. He's intelligent, has a great sense of humor, and is also a good conversationalist. He's one of those people who instinctively knows how to keep conversations going. (Sounds easier than it is, let me tell you.) He also seems like an excellent husband, down-to-earth, practical, but not in a killjoy way, and a patient and loving father. Allie, you're a very lucky woman, I hope you know that. Writing this knowing you'll read it is a little strange, but my friends are curious about you and I figure you won't mind a little ego feeding. I was also pleased you said he reminds you of me in some ways, because he's a really great guy and I like being compared to people that don't suck. How odd.

As for Allie, any changes she has gone through have not changed her essentials. She's got the same sense of humor, the same mannerisms, everything. I felt like she and I had been in touch the entire time. We spent hours all three swapping stories that ranged from the hysterical, to the infuriating (family), to the academic. I had an amazing time, and left feeling better than I have in months. Allie has known me almost all my life, and it's nice to be able to talk about the past with someone who knew my mom before things went wrong. In a way, it's also scary that there is someone out there who knows just how much like my mother I am. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, since there are many qualities in her that I would gladly never share, but I'm hoping I got the best and managed to move past the worst. She has promised to start a blog, so hopefully we'll have less trouble keeping in touch this time around. They expressed interest in eventually moving to the PacNW, and I told them I'd be more than happy to help them job and house hunt should they need me. (I have every intention of recruiting everyone I know into this area. I rather like having all my friends in one region I AM LOOKING AT YOU MIKE.)

Then there's Bowen, their little boy. He is absolutely the most adorable child I have ever seen, and not just because his favorite show is Family Guy. He's wicked smart, and is going to have one of the best smiles ever seen by mankind. I was shown baby pictures of Brandon, and he and his son look as much alike as my mother and I did. It's really uncanny. I still have no intention of ever having kids for roughly eight billion reasons, but if I ever do I'd be happy to have one as cute and intelligent as he is. Granted, I know I saw him on a good day and that like any other kid he can be a total hellion, but he already loves reading, and that makes up for any tantrums, in my humble opinion. XD

And that was my day. I left Saint Louis at 1:40 in the afternoon and got back at 2:10 AM. It was a long day, but I got a full night's sleep last night, without any pharmaceutical intervention. I had dreams that Sylar from Heroes had fallen in love with me and we spent hours half-heartedly trying to kill each other with forks because he wanted my brains (I blame your silverware set for this, Allison! D:<) before I wrecked the Monte Carlo downtown at 3AM. We ended up giving up and hobbling home together, limping and bloody. It was adorable. Mick Jagger was also there, surreptitiously asking me out via a waiter at the club we stopped to get a drink in. I also owned a film store for a little while, but nothing cool happened there and I eventually just gave it to the old man whose car I hit with the Monte Carlo. I woke up wondering what effect stashing my SAT scores in my bra would have on my sex appeal, promptly yelled "what the ever-living FUCK" and leaped out of bed angrily. No wonder Sylar tried to kill me. If I'd used my ACT scores instead, he wouldn't have had a chance.