![](http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7027/3119/320/130693/edarweeniefour.jpg)
![](http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7027/3119/320/493188/edarweeniethree.jpg)
![](http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7027/3119/320/947184/edarweenietwo.jpg)
![](http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7027/3119/320/151771/edarweenieone.jpg)
![](http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7027/3119/320/361850/edarweeniefive.jpg)
I cannot capture with words...
So here's some photos for you Arweenie...to share with the world...
I did not include the one where you inserted the tofu hotdog up your nose.
I am not in my thirties anymore. I attempt to follow the lesbian handbook, paying careful attention to page 127, paragraph three (you know the one). I know the secret handshake, and I will someday get my toaster oven. I miss Alaska, but also love where I live now. I am an applied sociologist, and a guitarist and songwriter (also from the handbook). I suck at softball, but think Ani Difranco rocks, so I am redeemed...
I LOVE these. The wonder and glory and fabulosity that is Arleenie. How I miss camping out at her desk. My new office is grossly deficient in its failure to secure a speedy path to an Arleenie-occupied-desk-space for all of my visiting and meal-eating needs.
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