These pants. These pants are awesome. But ……. will they love me back? I’m short, especially the lower half, and not conservatively proportioned. Will the well-defined waist keep me from looking too hip-py? Will hemming them (which I often have to do) destroy the tapered leg? I strongly suspect I can make these work, but then I remember the year I thought short-sleeved mock turtlenecks where the way to go. (Picture NOT supplied.)
In return for your advice, I will offer my own on any subject you choose. Anything at all you want advice on. My only warning/qualification is that I’m a brave little slut.
Valancy Jane – *feels forehead and nods toward drink* “Well, Aurora’s Mexican grandma swears by tequila as a cure.”
Former Coworker I – “I’m Irish. We use whiskey.”
Valancy Jane – “I’m a Jew. We whine until we feel better. Don’t knock it.”
The funny thing about healing is that it tends to snowball. Once it begins, it tends to move faster and faster, and the surprise of feeling a bit better is quickly followed by the surprise of feeling a lot better.
The unfunny thing about healing is that it all seems to depend on that first little shove. When I see that first little bit of progress, then I’ll know I’m going to be alright.
I’ve been trying to narrow down what I wanted out of the new year.
Then I stopped narrowing.
I think this is the Navy’s way of making it up to me, taking Chippers for six whole months, without my approval.
Jesse – “Happy Pintmass.” *hands me a beer from the kegerator*
Valancy Jane – “I wish that was a real holiday.”
Jesse – “It is, here. And it is more days a week than it’s not.”