Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Well, if I had known you were coming over, I'd have baked a bundt cake.
That seemed like the right thing to say.
Yes, I knew there was a chance my story would get posted on Design Mom, I mean, after all-I submitted it myself. But- I thought there might be some sort of advance notice, or official invitation/letter of acceptance. Like maybe a little bird would show up on my windowsill with a teeny-tiny letter rolled up like a scroll in its beak. Or, you know, an email. With a confirmation number.
But then I would have been anxious, and spent all day cleaning, trying to make my blog look all cute and stuff. So, here we are, me and my stories-and you've shown up... and even though I am actually wildly self-conscious, I am throwing my arms into the air and welcoming you in a big, booming, BIENVENIDOS kind of way, despite the fact that I feel quite unkempt and in no state to take on houseguests. Certainly not on Cinco de Mayo. Can I offer you a half-eaten cannoli?
Still: don't chance gatherings make the nicest sort of parties? Nobody's had time yet to overthink their tablescape or agonize over the seating arrangements. You just let the chips and dips fall where they may, and it's all just sort of randomly beautiful-- and awkward, too. Sometimes.
So this is my blog. It started as a way for me to chronicle how my husband and I had this wild and crazy idea to move our family to another state, buy a greenhouse and farmhouse on seven acres, and basically just start from scratch in a completely new career: growing flowers. And I suppose it still is that, because we still have that life, the country life, but we've held on to our old life, too, in the city, and even as I'm writing this, I don't know which is my old life and which is my new life-just that everything is changing and writing is the only way for me to keep from being overwhelmed by emotional whiplash. And, I'm also much better at being funny on paper than I am in person. Whenever I attempt a joke at a party, some people get up to refill their drinks, others throw themselves off the nearest fire escape. When I write, though, there's no punchline to screw up. There's just a story. Here is what happened, and what it felt like. Sometimes it's funny. Often, it's sad. The thing about writing is, there's always an emotional vein open, I think.
And that's pretty much what I do. I just write. Sometimes, I try to take pictures and post them in all their artistic glory, but mostly I am a horrible photographer and can't tear myself away from the moment to capture it on film for all eternity. I'm lucky I have a good memory, because someday, my children will want me to describe what they looked like as...children.
And one more thing-that post about my sister's baby. I really love him. I had never been present for a birth before-other than those of my own two children-and being there for his grand entrance really sealed the deal on him being one of my all-time favorite people in the world. And I'm so glad my sister is able to accept me and all my wacky, hiding-in-the-bathroom-during-her-labor schemes. She is 100% awesome.
So, thank you for stopping by. Hopefully, next time you come over I won't talk about myself so much. xoxo