Monday, January 2, 2012

One Year

A year ago today, I sat down at the computer and started writing a fun little family blog. I wanted something to string together far flung family and friends, and connect them to us. I wanted to take on Project 365, posting a picture a day. I wanted a little place to indulge my love of writing and, well, everyone has a blog, don't they?

Things didn't quite work out the way I'd planned. I changed directions a dozen times. I sucked at posting pictures. I found myself talking about my underwear and grief and things that had absolutely nothing, and absolutely everything, to do with our small lives. If I were to measure what I intended to do with what I actually did, then it's been a spectacular failure.

I couldn't be happier.

I have had more fun writing this blog, and (virtually) meeting so many interesting people, and being inspired to become a better writer, than maybe anything. Ever.

Thank you so much for your support. I am truly grateful.

And because I love you guys, here's a short story:

I used to travel extensively for work. I was in my very early 20's, childless, and The Husband was still The Boyfriend. It was a very long time ago.

(I start every story that involves illegal activity with that caveat.)

Sometimes, before a flight, I would catch a little buzz to make my in flight experience more pleasant. This would involve sitting in my car in the parking deck and smoking a little leafy green herb. It was my pre-pre-flight check. On this particular day, I toked it up, and by the time it was my turn to check in, I was feeling super mellow.

Until the woman asked, "Could you tell me what's in the tub?"

It was a large plastic bin, exactly the same one I had carried on a hundred other flights, containing exactly the same things it always did. None of which I could remember.

"Ummmmmmm." I said. "Ohhhhhhh."

"Ma'am? Could you tell me what's in the bin?"

"Yes. Sure. Yeah." I said. Just say something. Anything! "Ropes."

What the fuck? Did I just say ropes? She's going to think I'm some weirdo sex fiend, or a rock climber. Or a magician. Why did I say ropes?

But this was long before some woman stoned out of her mind and allegedly carrying a tub full of ropes would even raise an eyebrow. So she said "Okay." and handed me my boarding pass.

Here is a little fact about marijuana, if you're not familiar with the effects: everything is cool until something happens to harsh your mellow. And then it sucks. The whole ropes incident has made me paranoid. What if she knows that I am on drugs and is calling someone? What if I'm not supposed to be carrying ropes and they're searching my bags? What if they call my boss? What if they call my DAD?

By the time I reach the gate, I am almost in tears. The flight is full, and there are few seats available in the waiting area. I quickly sit down, determined to pull my shit together and get on the plane with no further incidents.

Until I notice the man. A seemingly normal businessman, reading the newspaper a few seats away from me. But, when I look up, he has folded the corner of the paper down and is looking at me. Intently. When he catches my eye, he does the most alarming thing - he winks.

There is only one explanation for this. I am being followed by the Feds. The airport authorities have alerted the FBI and I am under survellience. They've been waiting for years to pin something on me, ever since my ill fated volunteer efforts for Ross Perot, not to mention my Greenpeace sticker, or that picture of me and a Nelson Mandela cutout.

I go to the restroom, lock myself in a stall and pull out my cellular phone to call The Boyfriend. Do you remember when we called them 'cellular phones'? I carried it in my enormous purse, because it was the size of a small dog. I had to prop it up against the sanitary napkin trashcan to dial the numbers.

"Honey? I just want you to know that there might be trouble. It's the Feds. I told them I had ropes, and now they're watching me."

"Yeah. Did you smoke pot?" he yawned.

"Maybe a little. What should I do?"

"Don't be a dumbass, and stop smoking weed before you fly."

He never fails me.


  1. Ahhh, pot paranoia. Those were the days. Congratulations on one year of blogging under your belt. May you enjoy many more!

  2. Kelly--First, congrats on one year!

    Second, about your story. Eerily similar (once again) to my life. Just substitute "smoked weed before flight" with "drank giant Starbucks before flight" and swap out "ropes" for "five kinds of lipstick and a passport." I know! Scary!

    Love this story, and love your writing. The blog-o-verse is a better place because you are in it.


  3. I love it that currently the main teleBision ads against marijauna involve testicular cancer. Scare people where it really matters. I have watched more than a few people close to me destroy their lives with drugs and they were all marijauna abusers.

  4. Should I be surprised that you've only been blogging a year?? Note that I'm NOT surprised that you smoked pot but AM surprised your blog is only a year old.
    Happy Blogday!!

  5. I'm super surprised you have only been blogging for a year. Happy blogaversary. <3

  6. Positively wonderful and will certainly return for more posts. Happy blogoversary.

  7. I will definitely be stopping by more often. Hilarious.

  8. Your blog is one of my daily highlights! It totally annoys me when you skip a day or two or three!!
    Your sense of humor speaks to me!!! I

  9. I don't usually sit in front of my computer and laugh like an idiot, but I just did. Still am.

    I LOVE your blog.

  10. Thanks, everyone! And I hope you new readers stick around. It's going to be a great year!

  11. When I read the lines about spectacular failure and how you couldn't be happier, I thought to myself that's pretty damned brilliant. I'm going to have to remember that. Then I laughed so hard at the rest of the post that I had to scroll back to the top to remember what the hell I was supposed to remember.

    And I haven't even smoked any pot.

  12. OMG I'm crying here! So so so good.

  13. I have done almost THE EXACT SAME THING. We went to pick up my friend's sister at the airport. There was some glassware in the pocket of my jacket. I started to put it on the conveyor and remembered at the last second, so yanked it back and tied it around my waist. The whole rest of the time I was terrified that they were going to be coming for me. This was in spring 2001, so I snuck in under the wire on that one.