About that Hardanger Fiddle Thing….

joe coolA friend recently said to me, “Wendy, how can you be so cool and not cool at the same time?” Being of an analytical persuasion of mind, I had to figure it out. Here are my best guesses as to why it’s true: I’m not really cool.

1) Cotton trousers with elasticized waistbands and big floppy sweaters – I like and wear them. Especially when I’m writing, because they are so comfortable to sit in. And let’s face it, writing is a whooooooole lotta sitting. But then I get up to say hi to customers, or do housekeeping stuff, or make a quick run to the grocery, and people look at me like “Oh honey, where’s your carer?”

2) All you need to take me down is a Hardanger fiddle. Back in my youth,  friends who knew me well were astonished to discover I was dating the guitar player instead of the guy doing Hardanger. (But then they met Jack, and understood.) Still, to this day when I hear a good prairie fiddle going, forget the wine and flowers; you won’t need jewelry. Play Hardanger and you will have to beat me off with a bodhran stick. Which you will want to do, given that I’m in a baggy sweater and elastic waistband trousers.

3) I rescue cats. Yeah, say crazy cat lady. Say it again, a little closer…

4) Four days in seven, my hair winds up in a bun. (Go ahead: laugh. I’ll wait.) I like having long hair, but it’s not practical in a bookstore. If you’ve ever caught your long, swinging loose hair between two books just as you’re stacking them in a large group on a shelf – well, you know what a life-changing experience that can be. Not to mention neck-snapping. So, I wear my hair in a bun. Although I have learned never, ever to wear a blue jeans skirt and trainers. It doesn’t matter how swoopy your earrings are, how big and bold your watch; people will glance over, assume “Church of God,” and you will never get out of that labeled bottle again.

5) My favorite number to hear men sing along to is The Proclaimers’ 500 Miles. Lightly inebriated guys trying to bellow “DA-DA-DAT-DAHHHHH” in sync and with some resemblance to an established key–ah me, is there anything cuter? Especially if they’re singing to some girl sitting with them. Ah, sweetness. (BTW I have never been to a karaoke bar. These displays were at festivals.)

6) And the kiss of death: I use the word “cool” in casual conversation. :]

Not cool, but still havin’ fun –  I think I’ll get that put on a t-shirt.

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16 Comments

Filed under Big Stone Gap, bookstore management, humor, Life reflections, Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap, Scotland, Wendy Welch, writing

16 responses to “About that Hardanger Fiddle Thing….

  1. Hilda

    If this were the 60s, I see you as a flower child – including the floppy hat with the big flower on it. Have fun in your world. ha

  2. timehearthavanas

    All I can say is have at it!!!

    Susan Hamrick

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

  3. louise650

    I think a lot of people would BUY that t-shirt.

  4. Lynda Kling

    Just got my hair cut after growing all summer. I wore it up all the time, so thought I may as well have it cut…my go to clothes are mostly jeans and T shirt or turtleneck, all the time…I go from the house to the barn to shopping, and can’t be bothered to constantly changes clothes!

  5. I thought you were pretty darn cool, myself. Far too cool to need the costume or the label.

  6. I know your secret. The cool factor happens to people who DO NOT CARE what others think about them. We admire it and wish to be like that. I use the word “cool” all the time and only recently realized that it dated me…but I don’t care. So there!

  7. Kerri

    I would buy that T shirt.

    I have a similar reaction to dobro–makes my heart go pittypat.

    And “cool” is supposed to be the longest lasting slang word that still means the same thing–I think I read it goes back to the early 1900s! So we are cooler than we are groovy or peachy keen or bitchin’ or awesome.

  8. I dunno, Wendy–I’ve got you beat. Try dating at 75 when the pool of appropriate men is 68-85!

    And who all think attractive women stop at 60.

    Jane

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