I am such a huge, huge winner.
I am now at a stage in my life -- namely, the, I don't care if you think I'm a weirdo stage -- that I can tell you this.
On Sunday, I ate alone (ALONE!) in a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Oklahoma while reading Elle Decor magazine.
I believe that is the single definition of winner.
I don't often eat alone in restaurants. It's lonely. And I don't often eat in Cracker Barrels. They serve meatloaf.
One of the reasons I don't like eating alone is that people like to talk to me. They like to stare at me. They like to talk to other people about me when I'm in earshot.
I would rather just eat.
But I'm used to it now. I have coping mechanisms like Elle Decor and laptops.
When i finished my magazine filled with overpriced home furnishings, I turned on my computer to edit some of the photos I'd taken while visiting Oklahoma.
The couple at the table next to me began to talk about me as though I couldn't hear them.
"Must be such a lonely life to have to eat dinner alone with only a computer to keep you company."
"People are just so much happier when they have a person to talk to instead of a machine."
"I think I'm going to have the blackberry cobbler."
When the waitress came to take my order, she saw this on my screen.
"Oooh, look at that!" she remarked. "Is that in Rome?"
"No, it's here in downtown Tulsa," I told her.
"Wow. Are you a photographer?" she asked.
"Not really. I just like to take pictures," I said.
Which then prompted the person sitting behind me -- a woman who looked to be in her 60s -- to join in the conversation.
"What are you taking pictures of here in Tulsa?"
I explained what I was in town for, and she said, "So you are a photographer, then."
"Well, not in so many words," I answered. "Photography is just one small part of my job. I don't do it professionally."
"Honey, you just need to call a spade a spade."
Oh, Oklahoma, I do love you, despite your ridiculously too hot weather. Your people are charming. People here call you ma'am and run to open doors.
(And the couple talking about me as though I couldn't hear? They later drove away in a truck with out of state license plates. So there.)
I asked several people from Oklahoma what they would like the rest of the world to know about them.
World, the good people of Oklahoma would like you to know that yes, they have actual buildings and cities.
That no, they don't all live on cattle ranches or in tee pees.
Not everyone wears a cowboy hat. And they have actual motor vehicles, not just horses.
They have a couple of amazing yarn stores.
(Did you know Amy Butler now makes knitting bags? Want.)
These yarn stores, Loops, are owned by an adorable family. And I do mean adorable.
And fun. And funny.
We can talk for hours about things like being attacked by bats while out for an evening swim, or which roads you would take if you wanted to take a little jaunt to Morro Bay, California, or the birthplace of Nicolas Cage.
Everyone in Tulsa was very pleased that the temperature had dipped to a mere 95 F. 95 is a vast improvement over 115.
It was cool enough -- and by cool, I mean staggeringly hot -- to take a portion of our Yarnography class outside to get a little practice time in.
We learned about taking still life portraits of your yarn stash and projects.
We learned about camera settings and how to adjust them.
We learned how to sweet talk your yarn into posing nicely for the camera, and how to edit the apples and bananas on your kitchen counter out of your finished photo. I could have jabbered all day about yarn photography.
But then, Diana had to do THIS to me.
A two week old little boy with a blonde mohawk.
So unfair.
The babies! They smell too good! They are too kissable!
What's a girl to do?
While I was pulling up these photos, I heard the couple sitting next to me -- the ones talking about me in a normal tone of voice from three feet away -- say incredulously, "She came all the way down to Oklahoma to take pictures of babies!"
All right, fine. I'm willing to call a spade a spade. Just this once.