The Christmas before last, my parents asked me what I would like for Christmas, and I said I wanted some money towards a new winter coat. My dad reacted with fatherly concern for my financial state and my health, and if I was in need of a proper coat, he would get me one right now. So I explained that although I was warm enough in my perfectly serviceable black wool belted peacoat, I wanted a new and different black wool sashed peacoat.
On Christmas, I modeled it for my mom and Aunt April, who both enthused over the buttons and agreed that a sash instead of a belt really did make all the difference. It’s gorgeous! And my dad agreed that, yup, that’s a coat.
***
One of the things I really enjoy in Chapel Hill is going to yoga and to a dance class. That’s about the only way I actually exercise, if I’m not going to a scheduled class, I’ll wait to finish just this one thing first, and then realize that, hey, it’s been five weeks since I’ve done any exercise.
It’s a little frustrating to be struggling with poses that I could do just fine before my stupid back was hurt, but mostly it’s good to be able to stretch again.
The other day, I ran into a woman I thought I might recognize from yoga. It’s sometimes hard to recognize yoga classmates when they are wearing proper clothes, so I just nodded a little vaguely, and she did too.
“You’re in Name$’s class, right?” She said. “You’re the girl who moved here from New York?”
Oh man. How could she tell? Did I look too impatient because it was 6:04 and we were still sitting on our mats, chatting about the weather with no sign of beginning the 6 o’clock yoga class? WHICH IS WHY WE ARE ALL HERE, RIGHT?!?! SO CAN WE START NOW?!? Did I treat the changing room like a no-eye-contact subway zone, even though the changing room is still in the south and the rules about exchanging three pleasantries with each person encountered still apply? Oh no!
“Um. Yes?” I said. “How did you know?”
“Your coat.”
This picture is for my returned expat friend Gabrielle Olexa, who’s currently chronicling her rejection letters on her blog. These aren’t actually all my Submittable rejections but trying to shrink the font size to fit more rejections in the screencap was just depressing. (Like Gabrielle, I think constant rejection means you’re trying.)
