, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear Jane,

I cannot believe I fall so low on your list of craft recipients. Whatever happened to hos before bros, and sisters before everyone else? I do understand and relate to your lamentations about how laundry, food, and enough sleep can very seriously cramp your creative flow. I love sleeping, it is one of my favorite pastimes, but I seriously resent that to be a fully functioning human being I need to have at least six to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep – highly inconvenient.

I am glad to hear that you have finally overcome your horror and hatred of applique that my quilt instilled in you. Did Mom tell you that when she visited and we had to share a bed, she woke up to me having stolen the quilt and piled it up on my torso? I only covered my chest and arms and left none for her. I feel I will never be a considerate bedmate. The only person I have ever managed to sleep a whole night with, and I mean I am able to fall asleep and stay asleep, is our mother.

Both of my past boyfriends had the unfortunate habit of cuddling while trying to sleep. To be fair, most of the time we were crammed into twin beds and there was very little space. Do not mistake me, Jane, I love cuddling and affective touch as much as the next person, but there is a time and a place, and that time and place is not when I am trying to sleep. Also, men do the strangest things when they are asleep. I had one boyfriend, who, after I had told him multiple times to stay on his side of the bed because it was too damn hot to touch, in his sleep, pulled the covers up over me and then spooned me. I pushed him away without waking him up and then he did it again an hour later. They just do not get it. Awake time is cuddle time, sleep time is get the fuck away from me time. I am a complete monster when I do not have enough sleep, you know this. I eat people alive, in a bad way, when I am sleep deprived.

I love you, Jane, but I am not moving to D.C. Your water does not taste as good and you have massive storms that knock out the power for days. I will not deny that you have good people down there.

I got my hair cut on Friday and I finally feel my age again. I don’t know why, but having longer hair makes me feel old. I have been flipping my hair all over the place and feeling like a total badass, couture, punky bitch. The best part is my friend did it for me; she washed my hair in her kitchen sink, and then cut it in her living room. I look gorgeous. Now I have the delightful honor of bedhead every day. I have started an Instagram series about it. It’s called the “Good Morning Beautiful Hair” series. I take a selfie every morning and write a mini story about it and post it up. A friend at work has given me a terrific and mean way to end it and I am so super excited.

Well, wish me luck! I am signing up to read at Bluestockings tonight and then I am going to talk to a tattoo artist on Thursday about designing me a tattoo. I am torn between a few lines of poetry on my ribs (God made a little gentian; It tried to be a rose) or a scorpion, gentian, and ankh tattoo. I will keep you posted.

All the love,