Writer’s Workshop: All of It

I couldn’t choose this week which writing prompt to do. There are five options. I’m submitting something for four. Let’s go.

1.) Share one good thing you’re looking forward to.

BlogHer ’12. I’m going to read my Voice of the Year post like it’s the best thing ever penned.

2.) List 10 things that make you angry.

1. Someone popping gum

2. People who add an additional person to an email after a private conversation

3. People who lie even though they have to know I know the truth

4. Money

5. Taxes

6. Student loans

7. Metro

8. Fran Drescher’s voice

9. Pixar for not alluding to the bear scenes in Brave

10. Weak drinks

10a. Yeast infections

10b. Regular bras with a racerback/strapless/spaghetti strap/t-strap/peek-a-boo shirt or dress

3.) If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I WOULD HAVE BOOBS THAT EVEN THE MOST HETEROSEXUAL WOMAN WOULD WANT TO CARESS. And I might let her. If her name is Tracy.

4.) When was the last time you made something with your hands and what was it? (inspired by mindbump.com)

My middle daughter is in cheer camp for two weeks. Last week she needed a bow for her hair (of course none of the bows in the box of 35256463462435 bows was acceptable; she needed a new bow). I wasn’t going out just to buy a bow, so I grabbed some fabric and came up with this. It looks like shit. You can see the uneven cutting. You can see the hand sewing at the edges. It took me 20 minutes and 2 cotton balls. I affixed it to a headband. Because I’m fancy. I expected her to look at me and smile, then throw it to the side the minute I left the room with an “as if”. She is so delicate with my feelings! I expected her to react like her older sister, who seems to yell Whyyyyyyyyyyy a la Nancy Kerrigan every time I try to make something for her. But what did my girl do? She smiled like she’d just been told she’s the flyer in her cheer squad. She jumped up, hugged me, and proclaimed it to be the best bow imaginable. (Also, she actually is the flyer).

Damn. That’s all it takes? No matter how crappy, to her, I’d actually sat down, sans bitchfest about my time and faltering energy, and made her something unique. Something that no one else would have: a shitty bow. She was proud of that bow. And you know what? So am I.