It never ceases to amaze me what things make me insanely happy.
America's Funniest Home Videos Marathons,
my dog sneezing,
old family photos of relatives I never met,
baked hand crab rolls.....etc, etc.
I have 2 more things that make me joyful.
I moved into this house because it had a hook-up.
I was scared to commit. I waited over a year.
I have done loads upon loads in the past 2 days since it's move in date.
I could write poetry to this pristine white tower I love it so.
Again, afraid to commit. I figured window treatments meant I was officially living and staying on the West Coast.
The hardware seemed so permanent. I was upset that every neighbor could see me in a robe yet I fought buying them.
I recently stopped fighting myself.
After living here for two years I have conclusively embraced California with a drill and dirty laundry.
Now, I look at my new drapery and appliances and realize I was being a big chicken. Bok Bok.
Sometimes the things I am most scared of end up fulfilling my life.
I need to keep that in mind.
Monday, July 18, 2011
And now they were more broken than my heart had been some of the days I wore them.
There was no way I was going to let my jeans down. I had to find someone to save them, mend them, put them back together like Humpty Dumpty. After scouring all of Los Angeles, I finally did.
For an over-the-top, atrocious fee.
I didn't care. Why you ask?
Because.......these jeans........mean a lot.
I went through a really sad time in my life a few years back.
I think I wore these jeans every single day.
I moved across the country.
I moved back home, crushed, devastated, destroyed. More destroyed than the softest 12 year old worn denim.
In order to get past the heartbreak I needed intense therapy...that therapy was diving into mindless projects to ease the pain. I painted my Mother's entire house from top to bottom..... in these jeans.
They still show signs of white splatter. If they didn't dry so quickly they would also show the many tears cried upon my knees. That may be why both were torn right the way through.
Disintegrated in fact.
I decided to have the tatted up, specialist denim tailor only stitch up one knee; I wanted the other as a reminder of the endless stomach aches I endured. The restored knee was to remind me how you can be damaged but with a little help and some time the pain heals. Or so my Mom insisted many times as she cradled me when I cried.
Oh, how love can cripple the mighty.
I paid $90 to fix one knee and the split rear end. They technically aren't even worth half that.
In my heart they are worth thousands.
The best part about these jeans.....there is something quite magical about them. They mold to my body, regardless of my weight. At my skinniest from the stress of the sadness they fit perfectly. Plump with happiness from a few months of a new love and yet they still fit. There isn't another pair that has the ability to make my derriere look so delightful. Or so I have been told.
I want sincere, experienced, flattering, comfortable, fun, trustworthy...I can always count on them to make me happy.
They love me for me, all tears or all smiles.