I’m getting to be more and more like Barbara. Barbara is a woman who works at the same company as I do. A friend, Marcella, gave Barbara some old jigsaw puzzles because she’d heard that B loved them. Right there in the corridor B started crying about how kind Marcella was. I once told B that BP had gotten 6 bags of mulch and potting soil for me from Menard’s and hauled it all over the garden for me. She teared up and said it was a sweet thing for a husband to do. Someone else complimented her on her recent weight loss and again her eyes welled up. Hormones? Maybe.
Anyway, that’s me lately. I teared up after reading that Maira Kalman NY Times stuff that Tree sent. I well up when I see butterflies and hummingbirds, and when LP brings home a good school paper (maybe because that’s so rare!) I get misty when I see an old couple holding hands at the mall, or when that goddamn Prego commercial is on TV—the one with the melancholy violin music. Even when I read Spidey’s account of her recent weekend in the woods.
It seems that this happens when I see/read about GOOD things, not about the bad stuff. Maybe I need some stimulants! Just call me Babs. Arghh.
9 comments:
i know that feeling well. i watch extreme home makeover and i cry when the people thank abc and the team for giving them someplace decent to live. i cry at commercials. if i watched peggy sue got married and it is the part where she visits her long dead grandparents, i would be bawling like a baby. i like to think of it as being compassionate and not old lady hormones. :)
eh, I've been like that all my life
Jesus, Emma. I'm taken aback.
fuck off Schell
::crying:::
:::handing emma a hankie:::::
old ladies always carry a hankie up their sleeve.
Read Grayson. You'll cry for sure...
Emma is a crybaby
Emma is a crybaby
Crying is just a way for your body to process an overload of emotion. It's a good thing. I was telling TB that the other day, I was reading the end of "Saturday" at a Panera Bread and I could feel myself welling up when I had 15 pages to go, and I started crying and couldn't stop reading and by the last sentence, which evokes James Joyce's The Dead, I had gone way over the edge. But those few minutes of crying made that book a part of my mind and that's why I love reading.
Emma I get like that. I think it tells us that we are in a good place in our lives and we can notice the small beautiful things about life and not worry so much about the bad things. Your a good egg. Now quit yer sniveling. Love ya Lulu
I spent 3.5 weeks in Tahoe with H and the kits and when I had to leave there yesterday, I bawled. Poor H was so taken aback because it is so completely NOT like me at all.
Kinda freaked me out, man.
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