Tribute to the Cookes

I graduate in six days. I have come to terms with leaving undergrad and my friends, but I have yet to be able to handle the thought of leaving my Frostburg family, the Cookes. This post is dedicated to them.Andrew was my boss in Westminster Hall, where I was a Resident Assistant last year. He was the best boss I have ever had, and one of the best friends I have ever had, too. He made sure to give me the freedom to be the kind of RA I wanted to be, but never hesitated to say "Suuuuuz," purse his lips, tilt his head to the side, and give me that look of you know what you need to do, so you better do it. Andrew has always supported me. He has revised my resumes, bought me food when I had none, driven me home when I was too drunk to stumble three blocks, and given me advice on everything from school to dating. I have had so much fun scheming with him about events and presents for Laura. I love the giddy, sneaky look he gets when he frantically waves me into a corner of the apartment, says, "Alright, Suz... " (or occasionally, "Listen, Gus..."), and tells me about his latest genius plan to show Laura how much he loves her. Andrew is the greatest man I've ever known, and is the standard against whom I will compare every other man I ever meet. I am so lucky to call him a friend.
Laura is truly my best friend. I am so lucky to have a couple of those. Laura is my best friend, sister, mother, partner in crime, teacher, counselor, comedienne, and source of most things wonderful in my life. I can't believe I haven't even know her for two years. She has become such an integral part of my life. Laura always supports me when I'm right, always tells me when I'm wrong, and always helps me consider all sides of an issue when neither of us are sure what to do. Before I took my GRE, and had resigned to a painful failure, she promised to make me an "eat away your pain" dinner of my favorite foods. When I surprised myself and did well on the GRE, she changed the name to "Suz's celebratory dinner." When I got into grad school, she squealed like a preteen at a Hannah Montana concert, and made me another congratulatory dinner. We always work together as a team to tackle things which would be too much for one person to handle. When she has to clean the apartment (and perhaps keep a shred of sanity), I hang out with Lucy for a few hours and explore Frostburg. When she had five bajillion cookies to decorate for Nina's baby shower, we piped and piped and piped until our muscles ached. When I was so stressed out about school and relationships and everything else in the world, she told me a funny story...then poured me several glasses of wine. Laura makes me laugh constantly. She bathes my entire world in sunshine. Laura and I communicate via eye contact and secret words (hey Laura: "touche" hahahaha). I make time each day to sexually harass her; she loves it. A booty grab a day keeps a friendship strong. She is my role model. She is my example of a strong, faithful, family-oriented woman, and I'm not sure she realizes how amazing she is, despite how often I tell her. I hope I can be half as great as she is one day.
LuGoose is my niece. I am absolutely nuts about her. I love to scream and blow raspberries with her, especially when it drives her Mama crazy. I love to feed her crunchies, yogurt drops, puffs and other strange, crispy toddler foods (and steal a few for myself). I love to help her learn. I love to hear "Lucy, whoooo's here?" before Laura opens the door and see Lucy scream with delight and immediately launch herself into my arms. I love when she carries my shoes to me. I love to give her those very small, auntly things which Mama just can't allow her to do for fear of creating a routine: playing with my cell phone (and usually calling people or sending texts which say: "7#xj555#"), screaming very loudly for no reason at all, feeding me squishy pieces of slobber-soaked dinner, and learning new words which Mama hopes she will soon forget (like "whack" as in "Mama is whack"). I do NOT love changing poopy diapers, wrestling her into sleepers, cleaning up after the Hiroshima of cold spaghettios and shredded cheese that is left in her highchair, not being able to console her after a fall (that is something that only Mama can do), and saying "goodbye". I do, however, love being able to do all of those things, no matter how much I may complain about them. Putting that wiggly little ball of cuteness into a sleeper is like wrestling a greased piglet into a tube sock, but I love to blow in her face and eat her feet to make her giggly and still for just a few seconds (enough time to get an arm in).
The Cookes are so wonderful. I know we will be very close friends for the rest of our lives. It hurts so much to know that, after this week, I won't be able to walk to the Cookes' for dinner, a movie, baked goods, and drinks.

To Andrew, Laura, and Lucy, I love you. I will miss you more than Britney Spears misses sobriety, class, and fame. Touche, Douches. xoxo