a bunch of silly little things

(early this month, i was working at a conference in chicago and instead of taking dutiful notes, i was distracted by a bright red purse. i love the color red and this little tangent is the result of me being distracted by red, shiny things.)

12/1/2014

8:02 a.m.

i want a red sofa.

a red door on the first house i own, too.

the amount of hot sauce i’ve been dousing myself in is scary. i eat it on everything.

i’m on a mission to make biscuits every week until christmas.

i collect cookie recipes. i think our worth as a society lies somewhere in the ability to make our families happy with baked goods. the more worn, smudged recipe cards you have in your recipe box, the better you’re doing.

its my new purpose in life to be nice to strangers. in passing. never to be seen again. people in chicago are so nice. i’m sure there are plenty who aren't, but the strangers i’m passing say goodmorning and good afternoon and they give you the “hello, fellow human being” nod that means “i see you. you’re real.”  

i see you all. you’re all very real, very worthy, and very loved. that’s my new mission in life. i can’t right all the wrongs, but maybe i can right one day for one person. that’s now enough for me.

i want a pair of red heels. bright red heels, plain ones with no buckles or bows. buckles and bows make me angry when they are on heels because i hated buckles and bows on my shoes when i was a kid and now that i am grown, well, i still hate them.

for that matter, i hated bows and buckles on my christmas dresses. 

more than that, i hated pinched short-sleeves on those stupid frilly, dresses and i would yank on them until the cuff snapped when i was little. i’d pretend i didn’t know how it happened when my mom would see the ripped sleeve.

i hated tights, too. i still hate tights. they’re unnatural and invasive and make me look lumpy in that span of time before i can find my skirt and get it yanked on. i refuse to wear tights no matter how hard my mom has been hinting these past 36 years.

i want to find something to do with all the poor, broken crayons in the world. my children are like miniature godzillas lately, snapping magenta and cyan like brittle high rise buildings in their tantrums. and i just throw them out and that makes me sad. but don’t suggest that i do pinterest projects with them because blowdrying crayon fragments on a canvas and calling it art doesn’t work so well. trust me, i tried it.

above all this, i really, really want that red sofa.