1. I just finished listening to Mary Karr’s LIT on audio, and I have to say—to use a phrase from my high school days—it pretty much blew my doors off. Which is to say, it was great. She’s such an amazing writer, and hearing her read her book just made it that much more compelling, hilarious and outright awesome. I think I will have to add her to my Dream Lunch Date list: you know, the five people you’d eat lunch with if you had your choice of anyone, living or dead. My list fluctuates daily, but usually includes Anne Tyler, John Irving and Oprah. Lately, Kyle Chandler and Kathy Griffin have been on there as well. Can you imagine the conversation Mary Karr would have with them? Like I said: awesome. Now, I have to move onto another audiobook, and after Portia de Rossi’s memoir about her eating disorder and LIT, I need something lighter and happy. If possible. I would like more light and happy in my life in general, actually. Maybe they sell that at Audible.com along with books?
2. My daughter is going to be a flower girl in a cousin’s wedding this summer, which is just the sweetest thing ever. First, I was a flower girl in my cousin Kate’s wedding when I was six, and I still remember it as one of the most wonderful experiences ever. Whether Sasha feels this way, I can’t say, but I have to admit I DID get totally choked up while she was trying on dresses the other day. I mean, it seems like yesterday she was this little mewling infant, and now she’s this big girl in a poufy dress. SNIFFLE! I was so caught up in the emotion (and coaxing her to stop pouting for a picture: she is not a fancy dress girl, apparently) that I did not realize I had bought a white dress, not ivory as the bride requested. Second wrinkle: the shop does not accept returns. Everything is final sale. ARRRRAUGH. Several people have suggested I try to dye the dress myself but I can only forsee disaster if I try that. So I guess I’ll be putting it up on Ebay or Craiglist and hoping for the best. Maybe someone bought ivory who needs white? Oh, man, I hope so.
3. It is SO HARD not to gush to you guys about the season of Friday Night Lights that is running on DirecTV right now. I mean, I practically have to tape my mouth shut to not spill all spoilers, but somehow I am managing. Seriously, though: there are so few episodes left and it is SO GOOD and when it comes on NBC later this year, then, THEN I will be able to gush weekly, right along with you. And to all the folks who have let me know that you started watching FNL because I basically bullied you into it, I am so, so glad you like it. I just wish we could convert the rest of the universe. Aim high, right?
4. Yet another sign that I am codependent: my jeans keep ripping or giving out after years of use, and I CANNOT GET RID OF THEM. The latest victim: a favorite pair of Citizens For All Humanity, ones I bought the same day I got my very first (and only) speeding ticket in Atlantic Beach, NC. (I think this is part of the codependency: the backstory. Just a hunch.) Anyway, they’ve had this little hole in the back, which I was calling “distressed,” but then it got big enough to be reclassified as “obscene.” It’s not a place I can patch, either, because I’ve tried with other beloved jeans to no avail. I have no problem pitching ripped shirts or socks, but jeans are like friends to me. I’d rather have them stacked in the closet, torn, unworn and taking up space, then throw them in the trash. (My professional organizer friend Geralin is WINCING as she reads this, I know.) The only upside is I am taking all these jeans giving out as a sign from the universe itself that I need to buy another pair. Because of course that is how the universe communicates, right? No? Oh.
5. I’ve written here before about how my husband is a runner. He just did his second marathon and runs pretty much every other day, is obsessed with his training, and haunts the local running store like a friendly ghost. But the latest sign of his obsession is this:
I saw this and said, “Oh, my God. Hello, Carrie Bradshaw!” He looked at me quizzically. “What?” I pointed at the shoes. “What does that have to do with Terry Bradshaw?” he asked. “The quarterback?” I sighed. “CARRIE Bradshaw,” I said. “From Sex and the City? She’s a shoe addict?” Oh, right, he said. Reference totally lost on him, but that’s what happens when you are in shopping denial. I should know, as I am already thinking about what jeans I MIGHT by as the universe has demanded. Even if I do make the trip to the mall, I’ll still have fewer jeans than he has running shoes. I think.
Have a good weekend, everyone!