Sometimes I Look Like Slash When I Wake Up

When I was nine years old, Guns N’ Roses released “Patience.” That same year, Lindsey (Lee) Devore, Kristi (Melton) Carter, and I spent many a summer afternoon piddling outside in creeks, on hay rolls, in the back of pickup trucks (usually after a Brewers loss that in no way meant we should forgo ice cream) and among a whole host of other Cumberland County 2nd-4th grade girls who also had crushes on Parker Perdue and Brad Rowan. We may have shed tears ‘cause we were missing them, but we were still alright to smile. …

One of my most memorable days from the summer of 1989 involved wading in Marrowbone Creek with the previously mentioned partners in foolishness (filmed by Carolyn Lee; if melancholy strikes, ask to borrow the VHS), followed logically by a little Axl Rose-inspired dancing on a twin bed in a tiny trailer bedroom. Why this particular day and this utterly random memory remains so vivid is beyond me. I can remember what we were wearing (I had on jean shorts [of course I did] and a pale pink sleeveless blouse), our spots on the dance floor (Lindsey in the bedroom floor, Kristi and I on the bed), and most importantly, the arrogance that consumed both my mind during and my conversation with Lindsey after the talent showcase. Where was Kristi’s soul? Why weren’t her eyes closed and the corners of her bottom lip slightly tucked behind her teeth (the universal sign of “this song really gets to me”)? Why were her hands hearkening a Bangles video rather than the soulful, low at the side rhythmic motion that Axl perfected? I’m fairly certain that “bless her heart” ran through my mind for the entire 5 minutes of this quintessential late-80s song.

No joke, Lindsey and I actually thought we looked really cool.

Some twenty years later, Kristi sits in my kitchen talking about jobs and love and children and I still feel the need to apologize for my 9-year-old artistic condescension (I don’t, but it is on my mind at least:)). Despite this nagging guilt, however, Kristi and I had such a wonderful visit yesterday. We did absolutely nothing unique or remotely interesting; we had coffee (mine surely more coffeemated than hers), we baked, we sat around in mismatched pajamas and talked. I forget how much I miss my girlfriends (especially those who know my history, the ones for whom I don’t have to continually provide disclaimers) until I get the chance to be completely boring with them.

I’m not sure exactly how we made it to this point, but toward the end of the conversation, she and I concluded that we are all probably “the people we are going to be” by the time we are 8 or 9. Sure, we all go through things in the years that follow that may encourage or force us to change our interests or styles or responsibilities. Nonetheless, I think (although a writer should probably avoid “think” [if I write it, I obviously think it so], but I haven’t worked this out in my mind in great detail, thus the malleable indefinite) our mannerisms, our sense of humor, our treatment of others, and the things that break our hearts are all largely intact by the time “we” are feigning ankle injuries to get P. Perdue’s attention on the playground.

So, I suppose the overarching point is to never imitate Axl Rose in front of me. The more subtle goal, however, is to encourage feedback...When do we begin to see the best versions of ourselves?


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I hope to have two recipes for you on Wednesday: one for the zucchini salsa that I plan to try and one for the bread and butter pickles I will likely destroy this afternoon. For the time being, however, I leave you with one of my favorite "not really unhealthy, but really in no way good for me either" treats: tapioca pudding cups that have been in the freezer for about an hour. Sometimes I eat them while listening to White Snake and Poison.