have i ever told you how very much i like parks and recreation?
i do. a lot. because it's about good people trying to do good things by actually doing...well-meaning things (and if you think about this premise, it's a pretty rare one on television).
anywhoo, one of my very favorite episodes is one in which the main character (leslie) has to go on a first-date.
and since i'm entering that period of my life (albeit, a little behind the curve) where i'm actually open to the possibility of first-dates i thought i'd share:
leslie: what if he shows up with another woman? what if one of my sleeves catches on fire and it spreads rapidly. what if instead of tic tacs i accidentally pop a couple of ambien and i have to keep punching my leg to stay awake?
ann (her best friend): those are all insane hypotheticals and i promise you they won't happen.
leslie: they have all happened. all of these have happened.
{cut to interview-style}
uh, no, there's more. one time i accidentally drank an entire bottle of vinegar. i thought it was terrible wine. once i went out with a guy who wore 3-d glasses the entire evening. oh, one time i rode in a sidecar on a guy's motorcycle, and the sidecar detached and went down a flight of stairs. another time i went to a really boring movie with a guy and while i was asleep he tried to pull out one of my teeth. i literally woke up with his hand in my mouth. we went out a couple times after that but then he got weird.
the first song on this undoes me.
i spilled coffee on my laptop last week--on the keys. and in an attempt to dry it up before it reached the...well, whatever it is that it reaches before the computer stops working, i pulled out my hairdryer.
i melted the shift key. the ctrl key now sticks.
i'm a disaster.
{most days, i'm a disaster}.
i'm the girl who spills coffee on her laptop. i wish i wasn't but i am. (and i can say that now because it's not the first time it's happened). i'm terribly judgmental and i complain. all the time, i complain. and i second guess and doubt--i'm a veritable whirling dervish of insecurities.
but i am funny. every once in a while, when you least expect it, i make a good joke--a mouthful of a joke that'll make your cheeks hurt and your eyes burn.
i want to grow vegetables in the backyard. i want to go to the farmer's market every saturday. i want our children to grow up in the kitchen--surrounded by whole grains and colorful fruit and ice cream we make in the cuisinardt. that's not too much to ask is it?
you do know i'm going to be that crazy mom who doesn't allow refined sugar in the house (or at least holds off for as long as possible). i'll be the mom making vegan cookies for the bake sale and packing brown sack lunches with zucchini fries and raw-goat-cheese pizza.
i don't have a mind for dates or numbers. i'll forget all that stuff. or confuse it. or wake one morning and realize the trip i've been planning for several months was off by two days. and so there will be a mad shuffle as flights are rearranged and work is rearranged and the whole thing will be so ridiculous all we'll be able to do is laugh. because it's small fries. that stuff is small fries. i'll remember the good stuff: where we went on our first date and what we ate and your shoes, too. i'll remember your shoes.
it's gonna be a hard life. because life is hard. but it'll be really worth-it. i promise you that--i promise the worth.
and i promise you the attempt. the attempt to be good. and the attempt to be kind. to not worry so much. to not care what others think. to not complain at every turn. the attempt at humor--always, the attempt at a joke.
i promise you the space between perfection and utter chaos. the marrow of life--that'll be my gift to you.
me
