My Button Problems

I saw that Anne Lamott was at the Jantzen Beach bookstore while I was in Tacoma — figures.

I noticed one of the buttons on my Ann Taylor sweater was broken. You know when you buy certain kinds of clothes and they come with spare thread or buttons and it seems like such a great idea except where do you put them so when you need them you can find them? I have one main button area but could not find an Ann Taylor button and I looked in two alternate spots and decided to settle for a different button, same size, rationalizing that you would never really notice. Wrong, it looks totally stupid and then this morning I found the Ann Taylor extra button area, so I do have the right button. Now I have to get motivated to take off the wrong one and sew the right one on.

And while I’m avoiding sewing projects, I finally decided to re-hem these black pants I have (aren’t they all black? I can hear you asking) because they have always been a wee bit too short and that old sixth grade “are you expecting a flood” humiliation would come back to me whenever I put them on and I would find something else to wear.

While I was looking at my notes for today’s blog, I found some old notes that I think are from Wintergrass (Jan or Feb 02) which was in Tacoma at the Sheraton, the scene of this writers conference I just endured. The first note says “great food is a Fife landmark — you get the feeling Fife is stretching for landmarks.” (Fife is an aesthetically weak strip of highway lined with rundown motels with weekly rates not far from downtown Tacoma). The second note says “your bluegrass musician has two kinds of outfits: the sharp-dressed man and variations of the over-sized Hawaiian shirt and jeans.”

I’m collecting notes for an eventual bio overhaul. This weekend I wrote that I don’t like to drink hot drinks out of small cups and I don’t like being asked questions I don’t have the answer too. Like when my Dad visits and he asks me things like, “Why is the doorknob broken?” “Why does your neighbor have a cement mixer on his lawn?” “Who’s motorcycle is that racing up and down the block?” This weekend it was things like “what’s going to be served at the banquet?” “what happened to the poetry workshop?” and “has anyone seen ______?” (Fill in the name of a person we really need to find.)

I guess I skipped blogging about the conference this weekend. Let’s just say the organization was pretty loose and everyone had ample opportunity to adapt in the moment. It was a huge personal growth weekend.

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