Asking the Big Questions.

Recently I have decided to have a revival with nail polish. Historically, painting my nails has never been a huge thing for me because:

a)     It’s hard

b)    I’m lazy

c)     I’m too cheap to pay someone to do it because I can do it myself but I won’t because it’s hard

d)    It chips and that is so annoying and then people judge me for not taking it off for an additional two to six months

So that is my history but ALSO I’ve just recently realized cuticles. What the hell are they? By that I mean what the hell is their purpose? I know I could look this up on the world wide web or potentially ask anybody over the age of twelve, but I would rather just pose the question here knowing that I will never get a response. Since I have been painting my nails, they (my cuticles) are far more obvious. I either have to paint around them which looks terrible or I have to paint over them which looks terrible. I have attempted to remove them by scraping at them which is the worst. But I am not letting ANY of this hold me back.

I’m about to type something that may sound braggy but it’s not because ew - My cuticles are really strong. Are everyone’s? I really have never talked about this out loud. All I know is that whenever I eat seaweed, I visualize my hair and nails growing, prolifically, like a goddamn super power. As an aside, I said this to a date at a sushi restaurant last summer and consequently we never spoke again. But anyway, I wonder if my ocean-rich diet affects my cuticle health.

I’m just trying to step up my game people. I live in a town where you can really let yourself go if you’re not careful. Last month I decided to pay attention to how many people were randomly barefoot. I want to mention that I do not live anywhere near a beach. I counted nine in one day. NINE. I live in a city and it was a Wednesday. I realize the day of the week is probably inconsequential, but I really want y’all to have as much context as possible.

Stop putting my life in danger by forcing me to photo document your shit while sitting behind the wheel of my car.

Trying to enjoy a nice show at the wine bar but then stop it.

I didn’t photo document them all, but you get the point.

I will admit, however, that even though I am trying to counterbalance the dirty of my city with nail polish, the randomness of people does delight me. Sometimes I will just glance through my phone notes to look for a recipe or a to do list and I will find reminders that I sent to myself like these:

May 12, 2018 at 3:18PM

What is that coming out of that man’s purse. OhmygodIthinkitisananimal.

May 12, 2018 at 3:21PM

Dear god, it is a white squirrel. He has smuggled a white squirrel from some far away land and it now lives in his purse.

I am glad that I make notes to myself about these happenings, because I truly remember none of them, none of them at all. 

I had a friend in town over the summer and I wanted her to have the full Asheville experience while here – mountains, rivers, music, microbrews, and mildly uncomfortable interactions with strangers. I brought her to one of my fave places, Crow and Quill, which is an establishment decorated in dead flowers, taxidermy, and shadows. We ordered a couple of brilliantly prepared cocktails and settled in to listen to the jazz band that was performing. They were pretty good, but one couldn’t help but be distracted by the lead musician who was making a lot of really hard eye contact and blowing kisses. We thought we might leave after set break, but it was pouring to the point that the streets had been engulfed in a flash flood and we decided we should wait a little longer at the bar. We sat back down and what do you know, that lead musician came right over for a bit of conversation.

He started by reflecting on his younger days in Asheville when he lived with his girlfriend in an apartment downtown with no plumbing. (Side note: I am 100% sure that none of his story is true.) During the summer months, they (he and his girlfriend) were really lucky because they could go outside and “catch a shower” when the gutters leaked. He loved a good flood like the one we were experiencing tonight. Then, he found out my friend was visiting from Berlin, so he changed gears and started hitting on her in elusive German, full of pregnant pauses and weird catch phrases. After that, he decided it would be a good idea to bring up the topic of hovercrafts in Germany. A few minutes into the hovercraft discussion I thought it would be best to bring out my pendulum that I always carry in my purse and start swinging it before his eyes without saying anything about it. He wrapped up his conversation quickly and walked away and I turned to my friend and said, “You have to know how to out crazy a crazy person to truly be free.”

I take my ammunition of nail polish and pendulum and walk confidently in this world my friends. What makes you free?