I am grateful not to be that woman who coughs through things, though it’s impressive that I can hold my throat that still while it twitches internally. I am only slightly sick by now, but it lingers in my head and chest. Oh, to only be recognized for my hidden, little talents!
Today I was all but denied a job outright due to my lack of car. Of all the things I’ve gone without in the last year, I miss my car the most. Even more than New Orleans, which is really saying something. It wasn’t even Keeley specifically, but just the freedom and the opportunity that comes with a personal vehicle. Though being a couple sizes smaller helps dull the pain. So does the ice cream I have to walk to get.
Post offices are always hiring. Maybe I could sort some mail. I like mail.
I went to a Michael’s the other day, which turned out to be code for JoAnne’s. I’m gonna need to find an actual Michael’s to get the next yarn I need for my blanket. 2014 is almost out, and I gotta finish this blanket this year. It’s a 10-year-anniversary blanket, so it makes sense to finish it this year. I also want to try and record the Ziino family stitch I was taught. It’s beautiful, and I feel honored to have been taught a family stitch like that.
Thinking about it, I have been extremely privileged to have witnessed several families, and to be welcomed into them freely. I’m always worried to meet peoples’ families, because I’m not very good with family. I’ve got a different sort of background, and it leaves me at a loss when it comes to family. But I’m surprised at how welcomed I have been, by more than the Fanara/Ziino family. Katie Shay’s family opened their arms and home to me during my first Christmas away from California. Stephie’s folks sent me tons of things after Katrina. My host family in Costa Rica was hugely influential in my familial understanding after high school.
My family by blood has always been present, and although some aided the abuse, if by nothing more than ignorance, I have always been loved. I wasn’t always loved enough for people to help me, but I was loved in some way. That has to count for something.
Family of choice is something I discovered and owned in New Orleans. It was something I tried to explain in 12th grade, making family values for Alex’s program graduation. My friends have always felt safer, but that makes sense in hindsight. (Doesn’t everything?) Now I know that friends can become family, and that family starts as friends. People get married and have babies because they liked being friends THAT much. At least, in theory. It all kinda cycles back together-friends to family to friends.
I am never without family, because I’ve been extremely fortunate with my friends. And as I grow and age, wounds heal and boundaries settle, my blood family becomes something I explore deeper. I admire these people who have dealt with me since my birth. That must take serious effort, and no small amount of alcohol.
But now bed, because I am still too sniffly for staying up past 11:30pm. And I have to get another chapter or two in on the new bedtime book. I also should write to Lyon about how my assumptions from chapter one turned out to be way off. Speaking of, I will be needing a new purse book soon. Any suggestions? Or, if you want to just mail me one, I do love visits from the book fairy! Message me for an address! 😉