Well I might as well admit I've been dying to start a blog. OR. I have been feeling guilted into starting a blog ever since I went to AWP back in February. Potato, Potato. Huh. That only works if you say it out loud.
Moving on. I've been waiting and waiting for inspiration to strike, or for a theme to pop out at me, or for my life to settle down. Here's the thing about that: never going to happen for me. Inspiration is going up in smoke along with my state, themes make my head itch, and the adorable 18-month-old scaling my kitchen table and squeezing all the bananas in my fruit bowl says, "Settled life? Dream on." Well, no she doesn't. Because she doesn't talk. We're all just going to pretend I'm not responsible for her silence, OK?
Last night, my parents dropped by because they know it gets a little lonely in my hot apartment. As fun as single mamahood is, I admit to them on a twice-daily basis that I crave adult conversation. So they pop in--sometimes, with gifts. Last night, the gift was beyond inspired. A beer coozy! The first thought that popped into my head? "The houseboat called. It'll trade you that beer coozy for your T-shirt sleeves." Because let's be honest. Nothing says, "I'm a little trashy" like a beer coozy.
Turns out, I'm a little trashy. In all the years between last night and 1993, I have missed this little foamy sleeve. Back then, I was keeping my quarter pops cool and my hands dry--but the concept hasn't changed just because the beverage has. And with hard cider, which is the first thing I sunk into my brand new (probably really, really old and used) beer coozy, it's way more important. Hot grape soda may taste a little like Dimatap, but hot hard cider tastes like feet. Unacceptable.
So as my debut in the blogging world, I want to encourage all one of my readers to take a trip down memory lane and get yourself a beer coozy for this fourth of July. And if you run across one of those plastic rings you feed your T-shirt through to get that sassy little bit of stomach to show, call me. I am exactly that trashy.
An inspired debut!
ReplyDeleteI feel as if you have brought into the eyes of your readers the necessary requirement which a beer coozy brings. I love coozies. I have made a coozy for my French Press, and have thought about making one for my coffee cup... just because. I wonder how long of a stint you could manage about the musings of coozies? ;)
Did you knit the coozy, Daniel? Because that would have NEVER flown down on the lake. Neither would a French Press, now that I think of it. Leave it to you to really class up something so redneck. As always, you're an inspiration.
DeleteI didn't know t-shirts and beer cozies went together. I guess it's the plastic ring, which must have come along AFTER I had a sassy little stomach to show. We had to actually TIE our shirts between our breasts. But, on the plus side this was before cut-off shirts and frizzy perms.
ReplyDeleteFun! Can't wait for the next them...er...subject.
I could be wrong here, but I think the plastic rings were for the girls without breasts. It's always a good idea for me to draw attention away from my flat chest and toward my flat stomach and sharp little hipbones;)
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