crazy as me

Truth be told, I frequently have ideas that exist in a perfect state in my mind, but that I am afraid to share outloud, for fear of revealing the gaping holes in my logic. And quite honestly, I keep many thoughts to myself...which, considering the volume of thoughts I share, should give you the scope of my brain's activity on a daily basis. I keep them to myself simply because half of my ideas prefer the clever comfort of my own mind rather than the harsh glare of reality.

Which brings us to the scene of yesterday. Yesterday evening, specifically.
Dan and I are going to dinner, but I have to go to Hobby Lobby first.

"Why do you have to go to Hobby Lobby?" he asks and I hesitate before admitting, "...I need some yarn."
I clarify, "Well, I could get yarn anywhere. But I also need specific jars that they only have at Hobby Lobby, so I'll just get yarn there."

Still stuck 90 seconds in the past, Dan says, "What do you need yarn for? Are you knitting something?" He's confused, and rightfully so. My relative craftiness does not extend to yarn projects.

I do a brief scan of this idea...the idea which has originally propelled me out of the house and on my way to Hobby Lobby.  I think of all the words I will have to line up in order to speak it out loud and they sound ridiculous. Embarrassing. A half-hatched concept at best and I really, really wish I had never brought it up.

But he's looking at me from the passenger seat, and I'm looking at the red light. I stall for time. Seconds at best. The light turns green, I press the accelerator. And he is still waiting.

"I'm afraid if I say it out loud you'll think I'm an idiot."

I start to chew my thumb nail a little and glance sideways at him. The long-suffering look he gives me is a priceless one and what I am about to say hits me square in the funny bone.

He scrubs his beard and says, "Well now I have to hear it." And there's a little gleam in his eye that, honestly, I don't know whether to laugh with or to be pissed-off about. I scour my mind for the words to sell this project.

"What do you need yarn for, babe?"

"You know those places in the doorway where Gracie [the cat] pulled up some carpet in a fit of rage because she was stuck in the closet? I was thinking that I could buy some yarn that's the same color as the carpet and kind of...sew the carpet back together?"

"NOT--" I talk over his immediate reaction. "--NOT that it won't be obvious when you look at it that it's yarn...but maybe it will cover the bareness of the spot."

There is a brief moment of silence. Red light again. Green light, go. It's 5:00 on Highway K.

"So your idea is to sew the carpet with yarn?"

"YES!" It really sounds ridiculous coming out of his mouth and I'm going down, I see it...but I'm going down swinging.

"I mean ALL it is under carpet is the vinyl grid mesh stuff...can't I just...sort of...use yarn to lace it together?"

"No." He cracks me up, he doesn't even warm a 'No' up to make it more palatable.

"I don't agree with you. I'm going to try it."

We're quiet again. Then he speaks. "Even if you try it, you will never be able to pick out the right color yarn. Unless...do you have some of the carpet with you?"
"I have some in my pocket."
"You have some in your pocket," he says almost to himself.
"Yes." I chirp.

He looks away from me and out the side window. A quick glance over makes me wonder if his shoulders might be moving but I have to keep my eyes on the road and what the hell?! Why are all these lights red?

"I mean...I know it doesn't make it look brand new, but I'm hoping to make it a non-conversation in the first place."

"Mona. You want to sew the carpet with YARN. That will always be a conversation."

My left came up on the stoplight and I gave in. Heavy sigh.

"Fine." I say. Chin up. "You've talked me out of it."
"Good." His opinion, again, is served up cold. But the story he tells with the shake of his head and his half hidden smile is a warmer one and I start to laugh. A lot.

There is a Bluegrass singer named Alison Krauss who, with her band Union Station, sings a song called Crazy as Me.
The song opens with the line, "I'm used to being alone..."
She says of a lover's interest, "I've got no complaints if he is, if he ain't..."

And I've always thought the woman in the song was not as worried about her aloneness as people supposed, but at the same time not as unaffected by it as she would like them to believe.

She sings:
"Some folks seem to think I've only got one problem
I can't find nobody as crazy as me."

It's a sad song. If not a sad one, then certainly a mournful one in the way bluegrass songs can sound. But I always had hope for the character in the song. I think she knew that alone wasn't lonely. I think she knew herself well enough to know that. But I think what she was blind to was that alone wasn't the only way either.

I always had hope for her.  I thought maybe one day she would find that out.
That somebody would come along as crazy as her. And I always knew what a great ending that would be.



I still love what I know
I love to ride alone and sing a song
and listen to the radio
You can ride along 
and if you change your mind, well that's just fine,
but there's somethin' that you got to know
Just don't ask me for the truth if you choose to lie honey
And don't try to open my door with your skeleton key
Some folks seem to think I only got one problem
I can't find nobody as crazy as me
~Allison Krauss and Union Station
Crazy As Me

1 comment

  • Wonderful!!!!


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