Hey there kit kats. Whew. All of your sweet comments put me over the edge today. Every single comment makes me smile. Thanks for the welcome back.
So I’m back. A bit battered. I’ll be taking the time honored role of absentee blogger returning to the fold sort of sideways. We’ll be talking about fabric and yarn like always. I have a particularly cantankerous hank of lace weight cashmere that may defeat me yet. And I am SO going to make a Tiramisu dress! And I have a whole new house to show off, and guys it’s 850 square feet of the bomb. Are we still saying that? Did we ever say that? But we’ll be talking about other things too. Messy things and hound dogs as I untangle myself into my new life. Because today I feel like the worst yarn tangle ever. The one when you try to wind a ball of yarn from a hank without a properly trained assistant to hold the hank over outstretched hands for you.
Man, I could carry that analogy, couldn’t I? Am I the yarn or the one winding the ball?
Interlude: I am, as we speak, roosted on the balcony of a blues place in downtown Nashville. There was a very, very inebriated woman who escaped the watchful eyes of her husband/captor and scurried up on stage to wrap herself around the guitar player (solo act) who was visibly discombobulated by her macaroni arms and incomprehensible speech patterns. It amused me, especially when I was accosted by another in her party while at the bar getting a glass of wine. There was much sniffing of my hair and saying “yummy yummy yummy” in a Cookie Monster voice before I managed to disentangle myself and sidestep. Anyway, I told the bartender about macaroni arms on the stage and that it caused me that Three’s Company feeling – you know the one when Jack did something SO stupid you felt embarrassed yourself?
The bartender, a cute, chipper girl, had never seen Three’s Company. Sigh. I’m the old lady with 70′s sitcom references. Wasn’t that silliness on Nick at Night?
Back to the blog: For those of you who get annoyed at off topic blogs. Sorry. What can I say?
I thought about blogging about a lot of things today. Mostly, I was thinking of music, and how I’ve figured out when my heart gets all odd, and too big and hurts my chest and my throat starts to ache and I can’t stop thinking about sweet moments that won’t happen again; all I have to do is listen to George Jones sing He Stopped Loving Her Today a time or two and I will lose it and sob like a deranged thing. Annoying. But it helps me breathe again. And I just wear my sunnies everywhere. Hides the puffiness and makes me look super rad. (Are we still saying rad?) Turns out, all those sad country songs are a lot more effective than my $90-dollar-an-hour, doesn’t accept insurance therapist (Sorry Tricia! You have great hair, though!)
I thought about talking about all the big things going through my mind as a result of splitting with Mr. Bug. Things like being truthful to myself. And others. And brave like my bassett hound facing down the neighbor’s pit bull or my super steep back steps. I could talk about learning to advocate for myself and give people in my life the respect of knowing where I stand so they can decide where they stand.
But those are really BIG concepts and I’m just wrapping my head around them. And they make my chest hurt. And I haven’t found the song for dealing with that particular ache yet. I’m pretty sure Miss Aretha has something. Motown is made to make you feel like a brave bassett hound, don’t you think?
I thought about talking about how my life has turned into a total parody of a Meg Ryan movie. One where she takes her adorable self out to a honky tonk, drinks WAY too much Pabst and takes a little walk down the path of increasingly pathetic texts that you can’t take back the day after. But we’ll save those stories for a bit. Just remind me to tell you about the wedding ring, guys. You will laugh your crafty asses off. After you slowly let out a shocked moan of dismay.
But after all that, know what we’re going to talk about? The cast of characters.
Oh, one more thing. Read the Bell Jar again. I swear to god, it’s better than you could possibly remember.
: Lead roles :
Irrepressible (irresponsible?) heroine. Marketing manager with an awesome pair of steel toed motorcycle boots to wear out into the plant by day, completely confused, slightly damaged hound mom at night. Enjoys yarn, fabric, books, antiques, dogs and music, music, music.
[music: Aretha, Nina Simone and Mr. Ray Charles]
Was married to The Snugbug (ok, technically, soon to be ‘was’) Runner of marathons. Poker player, master edger of sidewalks and Lover of Duck Dynasty.
[music: drum corp ya'll]
The Forester Man
Brief paramour of the Snugbug. Loves music, trees, food, cooking, cigars, rum, antique books, crazy European car racing and old movies. Also, oddly, cactuses. And trees. And music. Also. Should be mentioned. A co-worker. A close one. And yes. We’ll be talking about stereotypes too. Apparently, if I’d just read ONE Cosmo advice column… Don’t get involved with co-workers. Give yourself time. Etc. etc. etc.
[music: The Grateful Dead]
: Pit crew :
Soothing, smart, calming friend. Always there, always says the right thing. Listens to me cry and cry and cry. Married to best husband in the world, mother to freakishly tall elf girl. Cooker of all good things. Likes beer and science fictions series with 37 volumes. Currently in the role of everything is ok we still love all of you this is hard for everyone.
[music: obscure indie stuff that makes me feel 86 years old]
Kick ass friend. Impossibly tall and scary smart with an important job in a country with twisty streets and good beer. Has magic phone number and FaceTime that mean I can talk to her all I want. Always comes up with one insight that blows me away. Married to The Tall One. Currently in the role of The Forester Man is a TOTAL ass.
[music: the Dixie Chicks]
The Tall One
One of my oldest and dearest friends. Quite grouchy. Speaks German. Impeccable taste. Accomplished cook. Drinker of fine wine.
[music: Stereolab, Cibo Matto, and other unendurable electronic music that sounds like bugs]
Oldest and dearest friend. Also most annoying, frequently non-responsive and possibly still a target of my ire for turning out to of be gay. And he’s actually a therapist. Handy, that.
[music: gospel and Nanci Griffith]
Previous boss of The Snugbug. Current boss of The Forester. Chemical Engineer with an MBA. Somewhat supportive mentor for The Snugbug. In a bind right now over my personal life.
[music: Taylor Swift]
Mom of Snugbug. Very patient. Loves to read. Putter upper of inappropriate behavior from her grieving daughter.
[music: according to her while setting up Pandora.... Uncle Kracker. What the fuggity fricking?]