I don't have time for a full post today because my 17-year-old daughter who refuses to drive has to be driven--everywhere--all at once. And we're having guests for dinner this evening. And my mother is coming for a visit tomorrow. And my house is dirty. And there is no bread in the dadblasted cupboard. So, I will quickly share an experience, but only for a minute because the clock is ticking--and persistently, too.
Anyway, in my little circle of my little town, I design T-shirts. I design them for the marching band and for the tennis team and for the guy who owns the screen printing shop. I have been doing this little "business" for several years, although most of my design work is for books. As an aside, when people use the word business in quotes, it means they don't get paid.
So, like I was saying, I design T-shirts. Yesterday, I was at the park in Small Town awaiting Daughter No. 2's tennis match, sitting in my portable chair in the shade with Daughter No. 1 and a friend, Mel. We were talking about the tennis shirt design that we are currently working on together when this woman sitting in front of us turned around--an eavesdropper. I won't judge because I have made eavesdropping an art.
This woman, a tennis mother and a band mother, like myself, piped in by saying the following: "I have to be honest, that band shirt they came up with this year is just ugly. Really..." She went on and on, but it didn't matter what she was saying. I just sat there with my game-face grin and listened to her blabbering--it's hard to keep a white shirt clean, blah blah blah--it's so plain, blah blah blah.
No. 1 watched me watch the blabbering fool and noticed how hard I was working at not reacting. Finally, the woman shut her fat mouth, and I just nodded and said, "Oh?"
I happen to like that T-shirt design. It isn't plain--it's classic, and anyone with a remote sense of design could tell the difference. And maybe if your kid didn't slop coney dogs and peanut butter pie all over the front of her white shirt, you could keep it clean. Or maybe the kid could just wash her neck once in a while.
"Ugly" my hind end.
Anyway, in my little circle of my little town, I design T-shirts. I design them for the marching band and for the tennis team and for the guy who owns the screen printing shop. I have been doing this little "business" for several years, although most of my design work is for books. As an aside, when people use the word business in quotes, it means they don't get paid.
So, like I was saying, I design T-shirts. Yesterday, I was at the park in Small Town awaiting Daughter No. 2's tennis match, sitting in my portable chair in the shade with Daughter No. 1 and a friend, Mel. We were talking about the tennis shirt design that we are currently working on together when this woman sitting in front of us turned around--an eavesdropper. I won't judge because I have made eavesdropping an art.
This woman, a tennis mother and a band mother, like myself, piped in by saying the following: "I have to be honest, that band shirt they came up with this year is just ugly. Really..." She went on and on, but it didn't matter what she was saying. I just sat there with my game-face grin and listened to her blabbering--it's hard to keep a white shirt clean, blah blah blah--it's so plain, blah blah blah.
No. 1 watched me watch the blabbering fool and noticed how hard I was working at not reacting. Finally, the woman shut her fat mouth, and I just nodded and said, "Oh?"
I happen to like that T-shirt design. It isn't plain--it's classic, and anyone with a remote sense of design could tell the difference. And maybe if your kid didn't slop coney dogs and peanut butter pie all over the front of her white shirt, you could keep it clean. Or maybe the kid could just wash her neck once in a while.
"Ugly" my hind end.
Comments
Ranty Robyn. Excellent!
As a designer I can really sympathise with with you about unqualified, know-nothing critics who should indeed shut their fat mouths.
If this woman finds white clothes difficult to keep clean she must be some spectacular kind of slob. I'm out of the house eighteen hours a day and have to rush all my washes at weekends and my whites are fresh and crisp and clean. And I'm a middle-aged MAN for goodness sake.
You should have slugged her.
Anyway, I have a 17 y/o who won't drive either. what is it with kids? MAybe driving isn't as fun as it used to be.
Opinions are like butt holes everyone has em. You're feisty Robyn!!!
It's this stupid longitude business; it means I have several hours head start on you.
Rich,I'm not keeping score. "Opinions are like butt holes." Profound.
Gina, everybody is a critic, and everybody blabs.
Maria, I am glad I didn't attack her, but I have had fun imagining a different response.
Nick, she can SO not judge talent.