Looking now at your photo, you must have been the total nerd that I was.  We went our separate ways when in separate schools with separate interests; you completely lost me at “cheerleader.”  But for three years I loved the braided country oval rag rug in your livingroom, and the guinea pigs that ate their young, and the drinking-water birds on the mantel, and your stupid David Cassidy record.  I hated you the time I slept over because everything smelled different and I couldn’t wait to go home, clutching the kleenex doll clothes we made so tightly in my hand.