I really don't know what to say about all of the lovely comments that I've received with respects to Stars.
A normal person would accept them graciously, thank you in a courteous and succinct manner, and then make sure to credit the real hero of the story...Tony Minieri.
But this is me we're talking about.
The minute the comment total hit 50, I bolted out of the chair and started hollering for Stewey to bring me the hairbrush. I know what you're thinking...that I wanted the hairbrush so that I might tame the forty pound squirrel of fuzzy brown hair that is atop my head. Right?
Again...this is me, remember?
The hairbrush is actually my Oscar. And my Emmy, and my Grammy, and my Pulitzer, and my Nobel. It is every single trophy that I should have won in the sixth grade, but didn't, because Shelly Mullen was smarter, faster, and stronger, and it's every single prize that didn't adorn my bedroom bulletin board.
(Come to think about it, I didn't even have a bulletin board in my bedroom. Was this because my mom knew somehow that I would fret over its vast expanse of nothingness that rendered an adolescent life meaningless?)
And so this morning I clutched that hairbrush to my big fat self, looked triumphantly into the shiny side of the toaster oven, and said...
Well, I suppose that this comes as no surprise whatsoever that I am totally stunned by this recognition. I'd like to thank those of you who commented, and all of the people in my life who've made this moment possible. Most importantly, however, I'd like to accept this applause on behalf of the talented designer, Mr. Tony Minieri, who created a true masterpiece and gave me the freedom to make it my own. Now if you'll forgive me, I've made just a few notes...(reaching into the pocket of my nine year old summer robe that should have been put in the Goodwill box eight years ago)...It all began on a lovely Spring day in Lima, Ohio. They say that the flowers had started blooming in anticipation of my arrival...
What I'd really like to say is a very heartfelt and a very sincere thank you for putting up with me and my shenanigans and for taking the time to say such lovely, lovely things. Please know that your encouragement will help me channel my stitchy powers for good. I promise.
If you're in this neck of the woods, I hope that you have an excellent three day weekend. If you're not in this neck of the woods, well then, I hope you have an excellent weekend too.
(Now in the event that you were thinking I was going to close with a rollicking GO IRISH!, I'm afraid that I will have to refrain. The opposing team this Saturday is coached by a fabulous and handsome man by the name of Skip Holtz, and I think he's swell. When I was a freshman at ND, he was very kind to me and never once made me feel like the dopey fat kid from Lima, Ohio that couldn't tell that his cowboy boots were made of ostrich and not, in fact, alligator.)