We’re not allowed to what?

No. Yarn.


So my stepmom called me up and said, “Let’s go to the quilt show!”  And I said, “Will there be yarn?”  And she said, “Uhm, sure…”

There was no yarn.

No. Yarn.

I repeat– a craft show with no yarn.  

But, well, I used to quilt– I did.  It’s been a while, though— ever since my kitchen table became my office table, actually– but since I still have three kids at home, I have hope that someday, I shall be a quilter again.

No. Yarn.

So it was okay– we could go to the quilt show.

In spite of the appalling lack of yarn.  And men.

No. Yarn.

In fact, in the quilt show, there was one–I repeat ONE– man under the age of forty.  He confessed to being a year away.  He didn’t look a day over twenty-nine, so I”m going to count him.  He was showing vacuum cleaners.  We already had one– of his brand!

But he was the only one.

So, there we go.  A craft show. No men.  No yarn.  But there were pretty things.

I bought a scarf.

Cute, but straight.

My stepmom and her cousin got a hand massage, and we all bought mink oil products before I thought to ask whether the mink oil was milked or, uhm, removed from an unliving mink.

Let’s hope it’s the first one, right?

No. Yarn.

And then we went to Dos Coyotes for lunch– and on the way, I got a call from Damon Suede.  (Yes, I’m shamelessly dropping his name, because A. I adore him, and B. people who know him know how wonderful and witty and smart he is and that sort of adds to the oddness of this conversation.)  See, Damon was walking on the streets of New York, because he IS THAT COOL, and I was in the car with my mom and her cousin on the way from Cal Expo to the Arden Fair Mall in Sacramento, because I AM NOT THAT COOL.  So, there I am, asking him a professional question of a somewhat, uhm, delicate nature.  And while I’m doing that, Cousin and Stepmom are having one of those bizarre, “But is Dos Coyotes under the movie theatre or to the right of Cheezecake Factory” conversations, the kind that end with, “But I thought that place closed down?” and then you’re parking and wondering how in the holy fuck you got there alive, because you’re pretty sure your law abiding mother just casually broke several traffic laws.

Still no yarn.

And then my conversation with Damon was over (and I hope he’s still talking to me) and my mother was looking at me strangely.  “Sometime when Cousin isn’t here, you’re going to have to tell me what that was all about.”

Stepmom getting hand massage too.


I wasn’t even being facetious, but I just couldn’t think of words right then.  The words were all gone bye bye, and so was my brain.

Sorta cool.

And into this brain-soup of a day that I’d cooked up,  I saw an old student who recognized me in the middle of Dos Coyotes.  He’s going to school to get a history degree, and was happy to see me.  When I told him I wasn’t teaching, I was writing, and why, he was like, “Good for you, Ms. Lane– you just keep on going!” I didn’t get a picture of him– but I’m not going to forget him any time soon.


Anyway, after all of that, we said goodbye to my mom’s cousin and stopped by Deseret Industries.  Now, I wasn’t going to buy anything there because that particular church hasn’t always been that kind to my people, but I was sort of fascinated and horrified by the stuff they had.  The ancient sewing machine with the old table and the knee pedal?  Fascinating.  Five of the same kitschy spoon holder, probably from the same store?  Horrifying.  Conformity lives–and I didn’t even take a picture of the uniform rows of consignment clothes in the same color scheme/fashion lines.  Trust me.  Horrifying.

Squish trying on glasses with me.

And then home, where I proceeded to pick up kids, then take ZB and Big T to a friend’s to play D&D and Squish to the mall so I could pick up my prescription sunglasses. We stopped by a pho noodle place because if it was just Squish and I, we were going to eat something good and healthy for dinner that I didn’t have to cook.

And now it’s 9:15, and I’m at my computer in quiet for literally the first time today, staring blankly at the screen and wondering what to blog and write.

A blank canvass.  Uh-huh.

And while I’m here, still feeling a little shell shocked at my day, I can hear Cousin, asking me this exact question:

So what’s it like, now that you have all the time in the world to write?  Is it like your day just stretches ahead of you like a blank canvas?

Short answer?



Oh– and by the way?  I got to the end of the quilt show and they told me I wasn’t allowed to take pictures.


0 thoughts on “We’re not allowed to what?”

  1. roxie says:

    Oh come on – how can you go to a quilt show and not take pictures?

    Love the picture of you talking porn in front of cousin. Sounds like a lovely day and a good break.

  2. Donna Lee says:

    I have a sewing machine like that. They're so pretty. I haven't quilted for a while but with most of the kids gone, I actually have space if I choose to start going crazy with another hobby.

    But before that, it's time to start sewing another wedding dress. (and the joy never ends)

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