*TToT LIKE A MOFO*
I’m thankful Dracula sees the value in social media. I’ve mentioned before I love monsters, bloodsuckers, and things that go bump in the night. That’s why when the shows Grimm and Dracula started a few weeks ago, I went a little ape-shit. I followed them on twitter. I retweeted some of their tweets. And then this happened. That’s right. Momma got a tweet from Dracula. (sorry so blurry, translation below)
In case you can’t see it, my nerd ass tweeted, “@NBCGrimm @NBCDracula My two dates for Friday night! #biteme”
(Shut up. I told you I’m a nerd)
And then DRACULA retweeted me and said, “It would be our pleasure.” (to my #biteme)
Dracula won tweets. Forever. *sigh*
I’m grateful for trying new things. Last night the hubs and I were out to dinner with good friends at an amazing restaurant (Meddlesome Moth), and Vanessa mentioned she’d had their mussels and we should get them cuz they were SO GOOD. I said I’d never had mussels before in my life. WHAT?! She couldn’t believe it and said I must try them. So I did.
SWEET BABY JESUS. Next thing I knew, I look up and half the mussel shells are on my plate, empty, and I’m .02 seconds from lifting the bowl to my mouth to slurp the last of the juice.
I woke up wanting mussels for breakfast. This is a problem.
I’m grateful for creatives. Last night we were fortunate enough to be invited by friends (same ones from dinner) to an art reception showcasing the works of around 40 artists. As we walked around I was blown away by the amazing art in that building. I loved hearing artists talk about what inspired them to paint certain pieces, or take particular photos, because there’s a history behind every work…a soul behind the canvas, if you will. I adored seeing their eyes light up, and hearing the enthusiasm in their voices as they talked about their passion.
I get them. I understand that feeling of being compelled to create, but at the same time, not really understanding this crazy-imperative urge. And that need for others to love what you do, but more than that…to understand what you do. It was nice to be around my people is what I’m sayin’.
Plus my husband bought me a kick-ass necklace. You know, to support the arts…
I’m grateful for my hysterical children. Okay, maybe they’re more weird than hysterical, but right now, this very second as I type, my youngest is upstairs singing at the top of his lungs, “My penis is beautiful!”
You can’t make this stuff up, people. (what is it with boys and their thingies??? GAH)
Aside from that, they are so witty and crack me up constantly. The other day we’re all four in the car, and the hubs and I are discussing something about the boys when our 9yo interrupts from the backseat, “Uh…you know we can hear you. This is just offensive.”
I’m grateful for the blogging community. I’m seeing a trend that’s enlightened me to some commonalities among bloggers. Most of them are introverts, or at least were as children; have suffered from anxiety, at some form, at some point in their lives; because of an introverted nature, a yearn to connect or have a feeling of solidarity exists; are extremely empathetic; are incredibly supportive and generous; are smart, creative people who, at the very least, love to write; and who are some of the strongest, funniest people I’m honored to call my friends. I don’t think I’ve ever been more pleasantly surprised by anything as I’ve been by bloggers. I learn from and am inspired by them each day, and couldn’t be more proud to be a part of this crazy-wonderful tribe.
I’m grateful I have access for my friend’s memories My memory is fried. Between motherhood and anti-seizure medicine (a.k.a. migraine meds) I’m a zombie – so when I don’t remember…oh, say…yesterday, I rely on others. This came in handy yesterday when I had no idea what to wear for the aforementioned art reception, and was on the phone with bestie, Robyn, warning her of my impending outfit dilemma and the downward spiral that was sure to follow. The following was our conversation, to the best of my memory:
Robyn: How ’bout a dress? Why don’t you wear a pretty dress?
Me: I don’t own a dress
Robyn: Yes you do. What about that pretty silver one, don’t you have a silvery/grey one?
Me: I’ve never had a silver dress in my life
Robyn: Yes you did. You wore a pretty silvery dress on a date with Jim like a year ago…with red flats.
Me: Red slacks? What are you talking about?
Robyn: Yes, I remember it. Go look in your closet. You wore it with cute little red flats. You sent me a picture of your outfit that night.
Me: Are you saying slacks? Like tights? *walks to closet*
Robyn: No, you idiot. Flats, like shoes. (she’s sweet)
Me: *Lightbulb* OH MY GREY BANANA REPUBLIC DRESS!
Robyn: There she is….
Thank you, Beanie, for your steel trap of a memory, and for staying on the phone with me for 45 minutes while I tried on that dress with two different pair of tights, two different pair of shoes, and choosing the accompanying cardigan, and waiting while I texted you photos of all of them for your approval. Once again, you saved my ass.
I’m grateful for rule breaking. Cuz this is TEN things of thankful, and although I’m thankful for a million things, this post is getting too long so I’m stopping here. LIKE A BOSS. BOOM. EPIC AND SHIT. HOLY SHIT BALLS (<that one was for you, Amanda) and all those other sayings I like.