My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Sitting in the birth center listening to a mother in labor. Poor dear. She came in at only 1 cm dilated and whopping contractions every three minutes. We stuck her in the tub and it helped a little. She got out and is lying on the bed but she's making a bunch of noise. Hopefully her youth and strength will get her through without needing any intervention.

So here's the blanket story:

When I was in Edinburgh last summer, I bought a beautiful shawl made of Scottish wool. There are sheep everywhere and I mean everywhere. I've worn it a few times for special occasions. Last week, I wore it over my coat and I thought I looked pretty damn chic.

In the coop, the deli woman said, "Oh, isn't it nice that we can wear blankets when it's cold out?" Blankets? This is not a blanket!!!!! Gawd, what a dork. I felt myself getting so offended, I couldn't even respond. A blanket, really???

Later I took it off at Houston's house and with my bag and computer I had it folded up and ready to put in the car. Off I went home at night. When I got there, I realized the shawl hadn't made it into the house. I looked everywhere. I looked in the car. I looked in all the closets, I looked in the car again. No shawl. I went to bed. (and btw, it's raining hard in the city). I text Houston to see if I left in in her house. Nope. In the morning I am on my way to work and I think, I'm going to see the spot where I parked last night and see if my shawl is there. Long shot, right? It's been pouring all night and we're talking the city. So I drive back to Houston's neighborhood, find my parking space and lo and behold (as my mother would say), there is my beloved shawl, on the curb, soaking wet. I snatch it up (it weighs 80 pounds), drape it over the back seat and go to work. When I get home that day, I hang it in the bathroom to dry. It's wool, right? Sheep get wet all the time and they dry out too.

I know, it's only an object, a thing. But I remember the shop where I bought it. Eden and I had walked through the entire town. We'd had a whiskey sample. We'd had lunch in a funny little veggie place. We'd seen bagpipers. We were a long way from home. So the Scottish shawl is back, washed thoroughly by the Seattle rain.

It is NOT a blanket.