Friday, March 30, 2012

On When I Met Julie

Just got back from the laundromat. Let me tell you something: I'm unfriendly outside of work. Well, not unfriendly, just... not too talkative. I still hold doors for people and stuff, but I avoid eye contact and keep to myself.

But there was this lady. This Midwestern Christian Mom lady. Don't know what that is? A lady of an upper-middle class lifestyle, with a house bigger than necessary, which... is probably actually necessary because she had upwards of four kids. That house is probably mostly beige, really clean and smells like Jesus. Everything is totally put together all the time, always.

Sounds like I'm a bitch and judge everyone? Probably so. And listen, I found out Midwestern Christian Moms can be... super nice! This Julie lady was so incredibly nice!

She's having her house remodeled and can't use her washer/dryer, so she came to my laundromat. She asked, "Do you come here a lot? Is it nice? How many quarters do I need to use on the dryers?" Not in a slumming sort of way, but a genuinely enthusiastic way.

(One quarter on knits, by the way. Two for jeans and towels.)

Her three accompanying kids were super adorable, and I told her so. They were so helpful! Which isn't surprising, because she was seriously one of the nicest strangers I've ever met. Seriously. She has six kids, between the ages of fifteen and Drop The Youngest Off At A Friend's House Cause They'll Be Fussy. She asked if I have any kids.

In the Midwest, it is commonplace for a person only twenty-three to have a kid or two. You should see my Facebook. Absolutely flooded with photos of kids. She said, "I hope the Lord blesses you with a child one day."

Then I felt bad for saying "Oh my God" twice. Thou shall not take the Lord's name in vain.

We folded laundry and chit-chatted, as our folding stations were right across from one another. I caught a glimpse into a life I could have had if I weren't raised agnostic. I don't want kids yet, surely. A house and a husband would come first. But maybe thirty-five or thirty wouldn't be the right age.

Maybe like... Twenty-eight. Or nine.

Hell, I still don't know.

"If you'd have asked me at twenty-three if I wanted six kids, I would have said, 'Heck no!' But we're so greatful for that the Lord has given us." -Julie, Midwestern Christian Mom of Awesomeness.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Arthritis + Skirts = I'm a Sexy Old Lady?

This is probably the first year in my twenty-four year existence in which I actually did my taxes before the Oh-Shit-I-Forgot-About-My-Taxes Day hits. Guess how much money I made last year? Well I won't tell you. I will tell you that, fuuuuuu-I'm poor.

I checked one box wrong and I owed money. Un-check it and Uncle Sam is sending me some. Yay for me.

Knitting lately has been strictly yarn bomb related. I have fifty million pieces to do, and it feels like I'm the only one doing them. In fact, I think I AM the only one doing them. My Right Hand Woman should be living in town this summer, so that'll help.

In the meantime, I'll just work on getting arthritis by making holiday scarves in the middle of March.

Fun fact: I own four times as many skirts as I do pants. And probably three times as many heels as flats. I have mad ridiculous amounts of weird clothes, and I wear the same six outfits over and over again. I'm a notorious sale-hound and cheapskate. So, a lot of these are $1.98 items from the thrift store, but still. Why do I keep buying all this crazy shit if I'm not going to wear it?

I have a bright blue cowgirl skirt. Tag says "Cowboy Corral, Louisville, KY." True story.

I should do one of those month-long fashion experiments I keep seeing on the blogosphere. Title it "I'm Finally Wearing Skirts!" or "How The Fuck Did This End Up In My Closet?!"

I bought boots at the downtown thrift store yesterday. When I got them out, the boyfriend said, "Don't you have boots just like that... only a little shorter?" I looked at the boots, and back at him. "My other boots are waaay too short to wear with something other than jeans." Obviously.

That's not ridiculous, is it?

(It really is. Also, I have a pair of jeans that I keep specifically for boot-wearing-days. What is wrong with me.)