For Christmas, Darling Kimmie (not to be confused with Darling Nikki) gave me, among other things. two small notebooks. The purely amusing part of these seemingly inocuous gift is each hardback is decorated with a huge marijuana leaf and the word HEMP printed across the middle. Yes, this is statement about the paper, but the ways it could easily be misconstrued has given us major giggles. My writer’s group too, when I announced “This isn’t a political statement!” Yes, lovely first impression.
But back to the point. A family member also bought me this large fabu tote, a gorgeous red Cross pen and pen set AND a leather bound notebook. The tag read “keep on writing!” and she explained, “you can put your laptop in the bag”.
I said to my SO (aka the guy who puts up with all my crap) later, in regards to the gifts, “Are they trying to tell me something?” His reply, “They believe in you.”
I’ve never been one for making lists, taking notes, littering the world with post-its or any other such thing. I appreciated my loved ones’ thought, but I really doubted they’d get much action. However, in less than a week, one has found a home on my nightstand for those half-conscious epiphanies and madcap ideas, one sits on my side table in my living room for those random thoughts, and one migrates from place to place depending on the circumstances. And I’m using ’em. Jotting away whenever the muse strikes. So maybe it’s true that sometimes the people closest to you know you better than you know yourself. Stranger things have happened.