A mish-mosh of artsy stuff hanging on my wall above my desk: a sketch of a future tattoo, some random zombunnies, and a stamp project from the littlest guy.
Sometimes it hits me how grateful I am to be a grown-up and not have to worry about someone telling me what to do and how to do it all the time. Sometimes I hear people say how they would love to go back in time and relive a younger age. I have never wished that. Not once. I love being thirty-three. Thirty four seems like it’s going to be pretty darn great too.
Today it hit how great being an adult is when I spotted a pile of my shoes that should be in my closet but are not. My mother would be so ashamed. I am not. This is not my closet, but it’s convenient and they stay nice and toasty next to the heater all night.
I’ve been a busy little bee but I’m still taking my gratitude shots. So, let’s play ketchup:
10.19.365: My best friend
This is probably my favorite picture of her, in the history of ever. It’s so her: a little bit crazy, a whole lot of silly and always making me smile.
I love the fall. There is something about it that makes me feel like anything is possible. I don’t even get sad that it leads into my nemesis, winter. Fall is just that damn awesome.
10.21.365: Where I sleep
Okay, I don’t sleep here. I pretend to sleep here. If I lay down next to him and pretend to sleep, he pretends to sleep until he’s tired enough to actually sleep. Although, sometimes I actually sleep too. Then I wake up with a sore back and weird lines on my face from my arms being pressed against my face.
Whatever. We’re fine with the routine.
I love thrift stores. These are Calvin Klein shorts ( Capris? Shapris? I don’t care.) that I got for three dollars at Goodwill. They make me extremely happy because they were within my price range AND they fit.
I’m easily pleased. I’m also a total lady who never makes ugly faces. Yep. That’s me.
Every one has one of these boxes, right? A box where you’ve shoved every playbill, ticket stub and letter from when you were young. Or maybe it’s just the hoarder in me that makes me keep all this stuff. I’m glad I did though. Every once in a while I pull it out and remember what it was like to get letters in the mail. Real letters, not just a card that says Happy Birthday with a signature at the bottom. Honest letters, written on a special card, with tiny print on the front and back, to fit everything in.
I miss letters.
Even though I don’t get letters anymore, I’m still collecting things. This box is overflowing, I’m going to need a new one soon. Although, the next one is going to fill up a little slower. I put more in my kid’s boxes than my own these days. But, it’s still getting additions. Then when I’m eighty I can look back and say, “Look how young I was!” and remember all the stuff I did was I was only thirty-something.
I hope letters come back in style before then.
I like ’em. I like to read them, speak them, learn new ones, and learn old ones. I like made up words and words no one can decipher. I like long words and short words and words that mean complete nonsense. I like that the English language is always evolving to include new, never before used words. When I was ten, I made up my own language, just to have a set of words nobody else would know. I’m a word hoarder. Teach me a new one and I’ll use it in every way possible.
Go ahead, ask me a yes or no question and you’re likely to get a ten page dissertation. It might not have anything to do with the question you asked though. (I like words, but I am not focused.) I am, however, prolific. I speak more than I need to and write more than anyone wants. I’ve been blogging in some form or another since 2007 and I’m still not out of words. You would think I would run out of things to say but I don’t. I’m wordy. Ask any one of my elementary school teachers. They all wrote the exact same thing on my report cards, “Jennifer is a delight to have in class but she talks too much.”
I do. I talk too much.
I’m also a delight. Those teachers, so very on-the-ball.
So… We’re 200 and something words into this post and I still haven’t shown you a picture. Did you read anything I typed above? You shouldn’t be at all surprised by this turn of events. But don’t worry, I’ve got it right here.
This was my first real camera. It took FILM, that I had to develop MYSELF. Talk about living in the stone age. Life was hard back in the day. However, I’m grateful for that camera. I was forced to learn composition and how to chase the light because I didn’t want to develop a thousand horrific pictures to find one perfect shot. Digital makes me lazy. It’s fabulous and I never want to go back, but still… lazy.
Now go ahead, try to explain the concept of film to a seven year old. My children are baffled by these cameras.