I love gifts.
I'm okay with surprises. Sort of. Not really.
Anyway the other day my mom stopped by and had a little giftie for me. This isn't unusual for us. We are both thrift store shoppers and if a deal is too good to pass up for the other we take it. Because how can you go wrong with $.99 butter bell? So gifts for no occasion doesn't really merit a pause for thought. Unless...
My Mom: I saw this and thought of you.
Me: What part of this?
My Mom: The whole thing. The canning, the gardening. It looks like there's a good article on recycling.
Me: Uh, thanks.
I'm still having a bit of difficulty finding my way to hippie acceptance for myself. It's nice to have a diagnosis, but the label still furrows my brow. Then to realize that people, your family in particular, thought of you that way all along? It's a bitter pill to swallow, my friends. A bitter pill indeed.
Of course I've read the magazine cover to cover. I wonder if they have a digital copy? Seems a shame to waste the paper.
/lainey
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