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Is it wrong that I have eleventy-nine different "about me" pages?

Last updated April 23, 2007

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In my top-secret picture taking spot.

My very first posting on this little website-diary was an "About Me" page. Well, at least it was a subject I knew something about, vaguely. You can read that post here and it sort of starts the story, how I had discovered knitting and was living all alone with some insomnia and some Cheetos and a herd of felines and I took to knitting as if it would keep me sane and tethered to the world.

I don't know if it kept me "sane" but it did keep my hands busy so I couldn't do too much horribly embarrassing drunk-dialing.

I started this website because I didn't have anyone to tell my stories to anymore. And I certainly didn't have anyone to tell about my knitting. I went online one day to look for scarf patterns and that's when I found there were real folks online with little websites all about knitting and I thought, "Oh! I could do that! It might keep me busy and out of the Cheetos!"

But the more I looked on this internet it seemed everyone was making perfect, adorable sweaters for perfect, adorable children or perfect, adorable husbands and I was not perfect, or adorable, and I had no husband and no kids and I was obsessively compulsively knitting the same scarf over and over again. On the day I finally realized I couldn't make a knitting website like that, I was in fact wearing a sweater on backwards and covered in cat hair from the knee down and I was alone, my marriage in pieces, my finances a wreck, my car was making a mysterious and expensive-sounding noise and I was still knitting THE SAME DAMN SCARF. AGAIN.

So I said to heck with it and just wrote down what was really on my mind, and I knew no one would ever read it and I didn't care because folks, I was not right in the head. I was about as off-kilter and three minutes from crazy a person can get without actually directing traffic in her nightgown.

Lord how things have changed!

In the past two-almost-three years I've managed to pay down most of my debt and get divorced and feel all right about it and get my sweater on rightways and make a hat (or five) and I've made new friends and even gone on a date or two and now I feel like maybe it is not such a bad thing, having a herd of cats and an affinity for Cheetos and red wine and wanting to be personal growthy and do the best you can with what you've got.

Oh! And then I went and wrote a book!

You can read all about my book here, or if reading is too much trouble just trust me you'll like it, I know the author. Go ahead and buy the book. It even has pictures! See how good I am at sales? I told the publishing company I'd offer to get people liquored up and read to them if they buy the book but apparently that is not what real authors do. Isn't that sad? Wouldn't life be more fun if Judy Blume and/or Deepak Chopra and/or Stephen King showed up at your house with a bottle of cabernet and read you a story?

Anyway, I'm very proud of my little book and still I can promise you that my family is somewhere this very minute making jokes about how I am a "Self-Help" author. They are probably wondering if now is the appropriate time to tell people the story of how I once killed a roach with hairspray because I was too terrified of bugs to go close enough to step on it, then no one could breathe in the whole house because of the hairspray fumes and my brother started wheezing and had to get his inhaler. Or the time I thought it would be cool to cut my hair into a side-part mohawk. Also, at least one of my brothers is telling someone the story of how we were on a fishing trip at Possum Kingdom and I thought it would be awesome to pee in the bushes -- WAY in the bushes for maximum privacy -- and then I got poison ivy on my girly parts and sat whimpering in calamine lotion for four weeks while they laughed at me.

In fact, I called up my older brother Guy one night when I was all maudlin and drippy in the middle of writing my book (memory lane and merlot DO NOT MIX) and I asked him, "If I am a self-help author, why I am crying and wanting to eat my own arm? Is that normal? Will they revoke my Self-Help Author's Club Card?"

And he said, "Uh, Sis, I'd be more worried that they find out you're a dumbass."

So there you have it. A lot has changed but I have my family to keep me grounded and my knitting to keep me sane(ish) and my cats to keep me at all times covered in a fine patina of cat hair.

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Posted by laurie at April 23, 2007 07:57 AM