I’m three—count ’em, three—days away from quitting smoking. I’ve been obsessively-compulsively distracting myself from lighting up every 15 minutes. Among my other (#1 is noted below) distractions: walking, sewing, shopping, sleeping. Writing is not a distraction; hence, the lack of blogging. Writing makes me want to smoke. But let’s not think about that right now.
Distraction #2: Walking. The other day I walked three miles to the Pigspittle post office and back. I like looking at people’s yards. My favorite: a side yard that has a 5′ tall lighthouse, a mini-bridge that crosses a presumably mini-stream, and several bird houses on 6′ poles. It looked a little like a putt-putt golf course. The Victorian and Federal-style houses in Pigspittle’s Historic District (yes, Pigspittle has a Historic District) are decked out for the Fourth of July with red, white and blue bunting. If you had blinders on, you might think it was 1876.
Distraction #3: Sewing. A year or so ago, I bought my first sewing machine. I haven’t sewed since I was in middle school home ec. Like most other things I do in life, I’ve approached sewing with unrealistic expectations. My 7th grade sewing project? A plaid pantsuit (it was the ’70s) with bell-bottom pants and a vest. The only previous experience I had was sewing a stuffed octopus pillow out of denim. Anyway, I am no less ambitious today, determined to sew my own roman shades. I’ve made one already and thankfully the rough stitches look like they’re supposed to be rough because the fabric looks like gold crumpled paper. After experiencing “thread jam” repeatedly last night, I finally figured out that you have to change the needle every four hours or so. I’m learning. My second roman shade will be completed tonight and then it’s on to the final third.
Distraction #4: Shopping. I spent a stupid amount of money at JoAnn Fabrics buying stuff I don’t need: patterned ribbon, candles, organdy ribbon (why do I think I need so much ribbon?), a Hershey’s chocolate bar, beads. I spent two hours not smoking.
Distraction #5: Sleeping. As I mentioned before, Chantix blocks the neuro-receptors that nicotine binds to; hence, I’ve not been getting any nicotine into my system even though I’m still smoking. This means I’ve been going through withdrawal for the last week and a major withdrawal symptom is fatigue. I haven’t slept this much in years. And the dreams I have are vivid, ornate stage productions. The other night I dreamed that I was an investigative reporter and that I had uncovered some big scandal at the school board. My boss was my editor. I went to the school board’s PR person, Dana Priest—the Washington Post reporter who uncovered the Walter Reed scandal—to warn her about my news-breaking story. Another night I dreamed that David Straitharn was my doctor.
It is now 2pm and I’ve only had one cigarette today. I’m about to have my second, because I’m writing, of course.
I bought some vintage 1970’s patterns for toddler rompers at the thrift store. Me, who can barely make a serviceable pillowcase. Needless to say, the children have already outgrown the patterns, and there are no rompers to show for my purchase. That doesn’t deter me. I continue to have unrealistic expectations about my sewing prowess. It makes me feel more womanly. Womanly women know how to make children’s clothes. Disorganized basket cases run out to buy new overalls at Nordstrom’s Rack because the old ones won’t snap at the crotch anymore. I think we all know which camp I belong to.
Yes, yes, Miss Black!—womanly women know how to do all these things. So why do we keep trying to emulate them?
Statistically speaking, I have man hands—my index finger is shorter than my ring finger. Is that why I can’t do these womanly woman domestic things? What do your hands look like, Miss B?
They’re kind of fat.
They used to look more womanly when I kept my nails longer. Now I cut them as short as I can get away with.
I think we needed mothers who could sit down and patiently teach us how to do domestic tasks. Maybe I should find a motherly type to teach me these things now. How much do you think they would charge?
I have seriously considered taking an expensive sewing class at the JoAnn Fabrics. Maybe I’ll try and do it this winter now that the kids are a little older. I think being able to make something from a pattern would be one of life’s greatest joys.
You do have man hands! Just like me!
I think you’ll find a motherly type at JoAnn’s. I’ve thought about doing this too. I don’t want to make clothes, though, just “home decor.” My grandma made all of my clothes, as well as my sister’s, so we were all “matchy-matchy” up until 4th grade–and my sis was three years older. If you make your twins’ clothes, stop sewing when they reach the 2nd grade so they don’t resent you.
Meg, if I’m not mistaken, having a shorter index finger than your ring finger means you are gay.
Hope you like dudes!
Well…according to “The Science of Gaydar”: The index fingers of most straight men are shorter than their ring fingers, and for most women they are the same length or longer. Gay men and lesbians tend to have reversed ratios.
Statistically speaking, my hands indicate that I would be a lesbian. Except that I’m not. And we already have one lesbian in my family anyhow.
More here: http://nymag.com/news/features/33520/index2.html
Oh, yeah. I had that backwards. (And I only needed to look at my own hand to realize it.
Or did I?)
i want to know the best doctors in india who are xpert in india or in us in the process of the distraction process of the index finger?