Today I had lunch with a girlfriend and I took the time to clean up. She always puts herself together and I felt a little peer pressure to do the same. I have been so deep in my writing/purging/ceramics world that I haven’t bothered to dress up in months. I didn’t even dress up for lunch with Bobby and Zeb yesterday, and Bobby wasn’t in full-Bobby mode. I done let myself go.
I was shocked to discover that my clothes still fit; I’m not the fat, fleshy slob I thought I was! A couple months in yoga pants and fleece will do that to a gal. When I taught pole I worked hard to project an image of non-stop sexiness, hoping that it would draw people to the studio. Since leaving I have been relieved of that pressure. I do, however, believe it is good practice to “get it up” at least once a day, even if your nice outfit doesn’t last past coffee.
In this case, the outfit didn’t make it past the dog. Blue had just taken a big drink of water, the way big dogs do, and ambled over to me in the living room. I was lying on the floor and, feeling expansive, I took advantage of my prone position to rub his chest from underneath and play with his flappy lips. He promptly burped/vomited up about a cup of slimy drool onto my chest. It’s back to the sweats I go.
I made the felt chicken from a kit when I was learning about needle felting, stone wear lidded tureen of unknown origin, a small plastic pastry bag (I prefer cloth) a coffee tin and a jar of random seeds the boys collected. FREE and TRASH.
Shoe fails. I don’t have it in me to deal with shoes that are difficult to get on in the morning when I’m trying to get everyone out of the house. The identical set (except for being one size different) took the cake. Zebulon bought them for the boys because they were a good deal and they have been nothing but a thorn in my side. He is never allowed to buy shoes again. I’m donating them all.