How old are you, girl? I don’t want to let you down on the friend thing, but—cool out! If Simon is being a pig, deal with it instead of whining to me like some high school chick.  What’s pissing you off? That he didn’t pick you up at the airport? That you hear women’s voices in your room? Could it be that the phone really did mess up that day, and that he’s taken to listening to Alison Moyet or Kate Bush? (If it’s Shania Twain, on the other hand, I would leave him…). I’m with you on the tree—it was a stupid thing to do. But cut the jealousy trip. It won’t get you anywhere. Trust me.

So, now that we’re through that, I will tell you who James is, since you asked (quite rudely, as I recall). He’s this great guy I’ve been seeing for a few months. He’s a lawyer here and owns a bar in town, and is just fun to be with. His parents weren’t too thrilled about me—they were looking for someone a little more…West Indian for their son. But we're cool, so it doesn’t matter.

I’m back to the books after my jaunt to Barbados. I’ll keep you posted if I get any more Stoney Grove scoop. In the meantime, chin up, don’t take any crap, and stop whining.

Love ya,

Amy

P.S.  Finished a jar of olives.  Yum.