I lived in Texas the first 25 years of my life. I grew up around women that could cook, women with incredible confidence and women with class. Living in Arizona, I can’t seem to find many women with the same qualities. Sure, they’re around but they’re not friendly and they’re not nearly as accepting. The ladies here dress the same, talk the same and act the same. It’s very disheartening. So, I have taken it upon myself to uphold those fantastic values of what being a southern woman is all about.
Despite the fact that I can’t cook, I always try. Weekend mornings, you will be sure to find me making homemade pancakes, bacon and eggs with coffee. Some evenings are filled with homemade breads, cupcakes or cakes with homemade frosting. The best hours are usually spent in a comfortable chair reading a book or listening to music. And rest assured, might I actually go out, my manners will be impeccable.
Never, have I been a room full of so many women where I didn’t want to scream — they were fantastic! They were kind, talkative, well-mannered and different. They were cooks, mothers, wives and daughters and they were talking about ideas and giving helpful advice to one another. It was a community of women who knew each other and shared with one another.
To those who know me, it’s obvious that I’ll, one day, become a cat lady. But yesterday gave me and entirely different outlook on the infamous kitty lovers. Sure, they’re probably a bit lonely and their kids have left home and they’re bored and their husbands most-likely annoy them to no avail. But instead of being bitter, old ladies, these bitches craft!
It’s no secret that I have made fun of these women in the past, but until I became a lonely, bitter woman with nothing to do but bitch about how things used to be; I realized that growing in to one of these fine patrons of crafting probably isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. There are plenty of worse things: alcoholism, hoarding, murder, 50 Shades of Gray.