Okay, so, I have made it 23 years to the day without devolving into maudlin paroxysms of gratitude and adoration on the internet, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to avoid it in the face of this. We had a good run, the vague semblance of composure and me; I’m sure that I’ll look back fondly on the times we spent together, like a photo album full of pictures where I am NOT, uh, puffy and teary-eyed and so overwhelmed with love that I keep making this face that, based on the reaction of the dude across from me in the coffeeshop, makes me look like I’m going to stand up and start committing serial murders for reasons of unhinged, unfiltered joy. Which is, in case that wasn’t clear, what’s been going on since Postcard linked me to the best birthday present I have ever received, bar none.
So, uh. I’m going to try to say thank you now. Please bear with me, as this is going to be rambling, DEEPLY tl;dr, entirely overwrought and embarrassingly inadequate, but I do mean it with all my heart.
One of the most amazing authors I have ever read, and one of the handful of people I am exceedingly proud to know. One of the sweetest, kindest, funniest people I have ever seen. I would rather meet with her in real life than anyone else still living.