Incoherent Scribblings

The First Time

My parents don’t smoke, my sister does smoke, but I don’t smoke… anymore.

I grew up in the 80s in the midst of Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” Campaign and I was very adamant about just saying no to drinking, smoking, and doing any type of drug… until I reached puberty.

At the tender age of 13, I drank my first wine cooler (it was peach, if I remember right) and in the coming years I would drink many, many wine coolers and though I steered clear of beer (it tasted nasty), Jack Daniels and Coke would become my favorite drink to put into an insulated mug and slyly sip through a straw. (Because no adult was the wiser that I was drinking… right? )

On one summer evening when I was 16 going on 26 and had had a few too many sips of JD and Coke through my straw, I decided to quit being such a prude and stop saying no to cigarettes. By then quite a few of my friends smoked and though I never really felt pressured to start smoking, when I was drunk it somehow looked so cool.

I bummed a cigarette off one of the guys and he lit it for me, claiming that a “lady” should never light her own cigarette. I puffed on it a couple of times before he realized I wasn’t inhaling. I was shown how to properly inhale and pretty soon not only was I drunk; I also had a nice nicotine buzz.

I was feeling pretty good and was about half done with my second cigarette when through my drunken haze, I noticed an intense burning sensation. I glanced down and saw that the cherry of my cigarette had fallen onto my half-exposed chest (I was wearing a low-cut tank top) and it was searing into my flesh! I screamed and brushed it away, but not before I had a nasty burn on the top of my left boob, right above my cleavage.

I rushed to the beer cooler and grabbed a handful of ice to put on my burnt chest and when the guys at the party saw me doing so, there was, of course, much bantering about starting a wet T-shirt contest. So while my chest still hurt, it was ignored for the time being as I fervently declined taking part in said wet T-shirt contest. And though I continued to drink my JD and Coke, for the rest of the evening I declined all other cigarettes offered to me.

In the years that have passed since that night, I have smoked off and on (though never seriously) and when I met A. I gave it up all together. But whenever I look down at my chest, I am reminded of how hazardous smoking could have been to my health and appearance by the scar that the first time left on my cleavage.

Another Framing Question

This week’s Stitching Blogger’s Question is yet another question about framing that was suggested by a reader (though not a fellow blogger) of my blog and is:

What do you do with the framed stitching that you keep? Do you hang it up and leave it in one place, never to move it? Or do you have a rotation, where you have one place for stitched pieces and switch them out according to mood or season? Maybe a mixture of both?

At the moment, I have so few of my finished pieces framed that the ones that are framed do hang mostly in the same place on the wall. As I frame more things, I move them around to make room for the new things, but generally they stay in about the same place.

A few pieces hang in my bedroom because they sort of match the theme and there are a couple in the hallway, but the majority of my framed stitched pieces hang on the wall above my computer desk, which has been nicknamed “The Stitching Wall of Fame.” Once “Passing Admirers” is complete it will have a place of “honor” right above the TV and that is where it will stay.

When it finally gets to the point that I have more framed pieces than wall space, some will probably have permanent locations while others will be rotated… but just according to my mood as I don’t really decorate my house for the seasons and/or holidays.