Thank you for this

I CRACKED UP WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY EMAIL AND I WAS EVEN MORE SURPRISED TO SEE WHO IT WAS FROM. I sometimes forget how many people read this blogger. Thanks baby boy. Hurry home with those sassy green eyes.

Posted to Ruby@Rubysfire.com Thursday January 29, 2004 08:41 a.m. EST
My friend Katie is not an open book. She is not a person you should take for granted either. She is one of the most inspiring human beings I have ever met. Her talent for writing is both to be envied and awarded. You may read her blogs and think she could possibly be a freak but this is not the case. If Katie had $2.00 in her pocket she would give you $1.00 if you needed it. If you are cold, she will open her living room to you and listen to all of your "drama". If you ever get the pleasure to be stuck outside at 3 am in the middle of a quarry with her and hear the poetic philosophies that pour off of her lips then you will know exactly what I mean. I look at this entire blog situation and I finally came to the solution. She never sulks or cries to anyone. She is so concerned about everyone else and how they are. Let me give you an example. Her dad passed away and I never knew until a few months after. I called to say hi and see how things were and all she cared about was how I was doing and if I was ok. She always wants to fix everyone else. This blogger is what her friends should be. This blogger is where she cries. Where she tells it all. This is her way of letting it all go. Judge her. Do what ever you want. Call her crazy, call her a freak. The funny part of that is even when you do hurt her or insult her, she would be there for you if you asked. But whatever. That's just her. So my crimson pumpkin pie, here's what I think. Just a few thoughts for ya. Post this up for me... I want the whole entire world to know who you really are. You are the most wonderful chic in the world. Cheer up Cookie. I don't like seeing those Blue eyes cry ever. ~ Sully

She's writing, she's writing,
She's writing a novel.
She's writing, she's weaving,
Conceiving a plot.
It quickens, it thickens.
You can't put it down now.
It takes you, it shakes you,
It makes you lose your thought.

But you're caught in your own glory.
You are believing your own stories.
Writing your own headlines.
Ignoring your own deadlines.
But now you've gotta write them all again.

You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
Do you? Do you?

You want her, confront her.
Just open your window.
Unbolt it, unlock it,
Unfasten your latch.
You want it, confront it.
Just open your window.
All you really have to do is ask.

But you're caught in your own glory.
You are believing your own stories.
Timing your contractions.
Inventing small contraptions
That roll across your polished hardwood floors.

You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
Do you? Do you?

You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?
Do you? Do you? Do you?

One more thing Ruby Red Crimson pie,
You're my honey bunch, sugar plum
Pumpy umpy umpkin
You're my sweetie pie.
You're my cuppy cake, gum drop
Shnookum shnookum shnooks
The apple of my eye.

Remember that jingle? You had the entire place flying out of their chairs.
Be good, be safe and know that I think of you alot.
Someday your prince will come and your life will be all that it should be.
You rock supa star!
Sulls