consider this my sally fields speech

via

a big thank you and humble head bow to all those who voted me "best writer" in this year's blogscars. it was a lovely, sweet thing to wake up to this morning and truly made me very proud.

(you know what didn't make me very proud? meryl streep winning best actress last night. and her self-deprecating but somehow simultaneously arrogant acceptance speech. i digress.)

when i was nine, i won a trunk full of crayola and nabisco products after entering a coloring contest on the back of a box of teddy grahams. is there really anything better than cookies and crayons when you're a child? even now, i would gladly and giddily accept an award that could eventually result in crumbs and messes.

that was the last thing i really won, and so this award is not taken lightly.

and on top of thanking my Lord and Savior, my devoted, protective husband, my drooling, cuddly pup and my parents who let me hole up in my bedroom and write poetry when most other children were outside, i would also like to thank my favorite english teacher, mr. eanes. a story about a grown man getting stuck in a mcdonald's playpen on prom night should either be hilarious or sad. in eleventh grade, i sat in my desk on the front row as you told it in a dynamic, interesting way that somehow made it both.

thank you to everyone who believes in the power of words. in the way they dance across a page and create new ideas every single day. readers make everything interesting and populate our imaginary towns with real, beating hearts. without them, the universe would be full of vivid, bright worlds as empty and lonely as a roadside bar on a cold sunday morning. thank you, for continuing to pretend.

the blogscars: red carpet edition

 

 

 

 

this post is alternately titled, "who knew i'd ever pull that prom dress out of the closet again?"

as part of the blogscars race, here i am in my best red carpet attire. in a highly typical setting. barefoot in the field behind my cottage. you know, just wearing a black velvet gown. you can find me in a similar scenario practically any day of the week.

i got that dress on a sale rack in the depths of a chicago filene's basement. with my uncle and mama. my uncle held it up and said, this one. it was insanely cheap and ralph lauren. and for two women from the south, those two concepts alone were enough to sell us.

i wore it with robert my senior year. the prom he came home from college to attend. we didn't go with anyone. for a couple torn apart by cities and time and too long phone conversations, we saw the prom as a date night and went to the fanciest steakhouse in town. our meal ironically cost more than my dress.

i'm not a fashion blogger, and rarely do outfit posts. but there's something to be said about dressing up once and again. even if it's just prancing around in the wet grass after work. about shaking one's hair loose from a tight bun and swiping on some ruby lipstick. of practicing a posed smile until suddenly, the sun begins to set and you catch a glimpse of someone you love behind the photographer and you realize, for the first time all day, you're not posing anymore.