My little group is part of a bigger group, the 'cadre'. The cadre consists of about 30 people, run by a 'steering committee', numbering 10 or so, of which I am a member, though I consistently forget this and fail to attend conference calls and meetings. My irresponsibility was punished by me being the sole member to not receive a polo shirt sporting our class name on it and a logo that I thought was Smokey the Bear self-immolating….like dodging the draft or protesting having to wear pants…I have been assured roughly six times, so far, that it isn't any such thing and can I please get off that subject.
The shirts come in 'watermelon' and 'forest green'. I don't wear polo shirts, ever, but if Smokey had been taking a hari-kari knife, or a combi-tool to his mid-section I would have been tempted to have one in 'forest green' since that seems more dignified.
Last night I went out for drinks with Allison. We talked about work, yawn, and quilting, which I can only relate to if I substitute 'quilt' with 'recycle'…then its close, I think, to what my husband does by never throwing anything away. We have hundreds of colorful plastic dog bisquit containers, large packing boxes, and old jars that could possibly be used, apparently, to hold nails or maybe duct-taped together to make bigger containers…I suppose you could hang some on our walls… He hasn't, thank god, but maybe if he joined a group of like-minded craft enthusiasts…. It's not exactly the same, Allison pointed out, but it did change the subject. It was the verbal equivalent of me walking into her quilting with my bullshit pressure and getting her to move on to something more lurid and juicy.
Allison hopes to trap her man by Christmas. She met this guy at our class last February. He was a student, which it isn't the same as Mary Kay LaTourneau having relations with her 12 year old student. Allison got sick of repeating this. He is in his 20's, though. And she is in her 30's. I'll bet he used to watch Fragglerock and Spongebob at a time when she was trying to give up smoking and damning her mustache genes. Not a popular reflection, I might add. He lives in North Carolina, she in Oregon. Her eggs are getting old. (What eggs? I had to ask, though I knew) He has mostly blown her off since their time here together, but…has recently suddenly began calling ..and texting…. (LOL OMG SMILEY FACE…WTF?) Wants to visit. Her theory: His light is on. Men are like cabs. No matter who you are, once a man's light goes on, the first woman who gets into that cab, he's going to marry. Timmy's light is on and she is waving like her ovaries depend upon it.
My money is on Smokey being found dead in the woods by the New Year, probably an overdose, and Allison still being single.