Monday, August 1, 2011

warm fuzzy weekend.


When i was in elementary school, interspersed with library and music day- we went to guidance class once a week. [Tangent: As I have grown up, I've learned that not all schools did this. Maybe that's why so many in my privileged school system had a strong, yet sometimes misplaced, sense of self importance. Regardless, it was basically a class that taught you all about McGruff the crime dog, how to say no to drugs, and what to if someone tries to touch your no-no bathing suit area.] The one thing I took away from Guidance [Tangent: Aside from all the ways to say "no" to drugs...EX: broken record...sassy comeback...cold shoulder etc] was the concept of "warm fuzzies" and "cold pricklies". 



Warm fuzzies were those good feelings you get from someone or some situation. They put little mittens on your heart and make you feel good inside. Cold Pricklies were their antagonist, they were the bastards that just, to put it bluntly, make you feel like shit. My guidance counselor, who was a very soothing woman who loved chunky jewelry and flowy blouses, was OBSESSED with warm fuzzies. She read us stories about them, had us make them out of yarn etc. If "warm Fuzzy" was the word of the day and her portable classroom was Pee Wee's playhouse, our voices would all be long gone from screaming each time the phrase was uttered. To borrow an advertising phrase, warm fuzzies had a high "stickiness" quotient. IT STUCK.


 
Anyway- cut to this weekend- I had a great one and was repeatedly bombarded with such warm fuzziness. Nary a cold prickled douchebag to be found. One of them came to me on Saturday via email from, my friend Alicia with the following pictures. Her 6-year-old daughter, who is my faux niece, was playing legos and informed her that she had made her lego people a wheelchair- "like Kimmie's."

wheelchair attempt #1

wheelchair attempt #2 after she remembered that mine had front wheels
[Tangent: If that doesn't give you warm fuzzies, I daresay you are dead inside. In which case, I don't want you reading my blog...click that little X now!]

The next bout of warm fuzzies came at my high school reunion, and they were a direct result of this blog, which I haphazardly spew my random thoughts into. Because I am a gentile Southern lady, [Tangent: By the way, this description has NEVER been used to describe me...and likely never will given my penchant for four letter words.] I decided I would write a thank you letter to my blog for inadvertently giving me warm fuzzies at my reunion.

Dear Blog,

Thanks for giving me something to talk about at my 10 year reunion, other than my "meh" job or the fact that I'm pushing 30 and live with my folks.  Your existence and unexpected popularity was such a fantastic icebreaker. "Hey, I follow your blog." or "Who do you think is gonna win this thing?" was a markedly less awkward approach than to say, "so...what have you been up to...in the last 10 years?" or "What do you do?" [Tangent: the latter is followed by the all too familiar puzzled half smile, because no one fully understands what it is that I do.]

It was shocking that nearly half the people I talked to at the shindig were familiar with my writing and it seemed that they really were fans. All the praise for you really lit a fire under my ass to make blogging a priority. The kind words and admittance of creepy blog stalking also gave me that false sense of importance that my guidance counselor instilled in me 20 years ago.

Thanks again for the warm fuzzies.

Your friend, 
Kimmie

4 comments:

  1. I'm fuzzy and misty all at the same time! Hugs to one of the warmest fuzzy women I know!

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  2. haha I remember warm fuzzies too! Love it.

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  3. Just so you know, at no point have you ever given me the Cold Pricklies.

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  4. Yes, you were definitely the most popular girl in the reunion. I kept trying to talk to you, but there was always a crowd. Finally, I interrupted someone and was like "I need to speak to my favorite blogger." it was a warm fuzzy moment.

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