There is nothing quite like experiencing life as a Klutz. Take it from me, nicknamed The Pinktank since I was a child. Life is a series of missed steps, wrong-in, bad outs, embarrassing moments, almost disasters, slippery treads, delightful trips, spills and fumbles…and that’s just for starters.
For much of my adulthood, I have been banned from using my parents riding lawn mower. It’s much like my eternal ban from snow-skiing – there are just certain things which in which a klutz should never partake.
So a few weeks ago when I was at my parents house, helping out because my father was so sick, the idea of me mowing the lawn came up. And it was passed that yes, at the tender age of 41, I would finally be allowe3d to used that elusive riding lawn mower. As my father shgowe3d me how to use it, where the gears where, what they did and when to shift, I was almost giddy I was so excited.
And then, it was time. My father handed me the keys, smiled a half wistful, half OMG-I-hope-she-does-drive-this-thing-iunto-the-water look. And as I climbed up on the powerful machine, I felt like an adult. I turned the ignition and felt the horse power. this was going to be fun.
And indeed it was. That little lawn mower could go, fast. I remember watching the TV show Home Improvement with Tim Allen. There was one episode where he and his Tool Time co-host did some kind of race with riding lawn mowers. I did not understand how this could be fun or exciting until I got on one myself. And it was full throttle. I was zipping around the yard, mowing the long over grown grass, having a blast. I was doing donuts around the trees and loving it.
And then.
And then something happened. I thought I left enough space, but I didn’t. I felt a jar as it happened, then I turned around to see it. And t here is was…the water pump I had just run over, water spewing out of it about a foot or so high. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just sat there, lawn mower running, for just a moment, staring at the water pouring out of the broken pipe.
Crap. (not the word used) I ran over the water pump. I will never live this down.
I ran in and got my Dad, his immediate question of “what did you do??” ringing in my ears.
“Well, at least I didn’t drive it into the water,” I said, smiling sheepishly.
And hour and a half later, with the help of my wonderful father and amazing boyfriend, the water pump was fixed. We had to turn of the water to the house – during the hottest part of the day – saw both ends of the broken pipe to make sure it was a smooth “Break”, get new piping, put glue-stuff on it, and attach it to the old piping. Piece of cake. Thank goodness my dad was around to tell us how to do it.
And that is what happens when a klutz mows the lawn.
I did gt back up on the mower and finished the yard, without incident. I went slow and did no more donuts around the trees…but man it was worth it, having all that fun. And sometimes you just have to have fun anyway, live a little, enjoy the moment and do donuts around the tress and such. Make a fool of yourself, laugh out load and just say the heck with the rules. Just make sure you don;t run over the water pump in the process!
Upon looking back on my life…I release that my life resembles that of a movie…not, not Armageddon. No, not Sex in the City (it’s more like Zip in the City) .No, it’s more along the lines of Bridget Jones’s Diary. Minus the Blonde hair.
While I have never “bonked” my boss, I have dated co-workers. (Never do that. Really.) I have worked in media as a reporter, DJ, traffic person, etc. No, I have not dressed in a Playboy Bunny constume (yet), I have been known to do and say the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time and make an idiot of myself…pretty much on a regular basis.
I am extremely clumsy and can find myself in embarrassing moments at any given time (stay tuned for regular tales of chaos as I try to concur the fix-up “To Do” list on my house – Ada vs. the yard, the lawn mower, ladder, the paint can and brush, the calk gun, the leaf blower, the what-ever-the-is-in-the-dark-corner-of0the-garage….).
And my tales of romance, except for one major disaster, have been quite entertaining. There have been many moments of “Really?” not to mention uncomfortable moments with my doctor as he advises me that if I want to have a child I need to “hurry up,” as it’s not good for a woman of my age. (Never thought my doctor’s biological clock would be ticking harder for me than my own).
And then there is the now infamous 20lbs that has attached it’s self to my thighs…and stomach, and underside of my arms, and chin. Seriously, what’s up with that? The upside is that the Girls are looking full and fabulous. I don’t diet, and eventually when (if) it ever gets warm, I’ll be outside running, jogging and hiking those extra pounds away.
All I need now are two fabulously handsome British men fighting over me. No? Well, there’s always the next chapter. Until then, I will enjoy my Bridget-esc like existence. And write the tales of this life for all to be entertained.
They say that movement is an art – if you have any doubt, just watch someone do ti-chi. But what about the art of moving? You know, all that is involved in packing and moving? I am convinced that this too is an art…and maybe should even be considered an Olympic sport. After all, you have things like packing weight in appropriate boxes, box wrangling (the art of finding free boxes), Creative packing (example: packing collectable with sweaters, using towels to secure plates so that they do not move or break). There is the art of speed packing (how fast you can pack when moving day is here and there are still 1,001 things still not packed). And Deep packing (just how much CAN you fit in a box before it implodes and falls apart?)…
Then there is all the labeling. Most are fine with simply writing the room -Kitchen, Master bath, living room…but not me. No, there is an art to this too. For those of us who truly believe is raising the bar…not only are the boxes labeled to the room, but they are numbered with a general list of contents. Then there is a master list written in a notepad that lists, in detail, in numerical order, exactly is in which box. No more wondering where the paper towels or coffee pot are, no more going through 15 boxes just to find the toothpaste, or clean sheets. No, just go to the boxes numbered and grouped for that room, and go t=down the itemized list of contents.
There is skeezy neighbor dodging – us girls are especially experienced in this area. For example, I got a text from my next door neighbor tonight asking if he could help me pack…at 11pm. I politely said thank you, but it was late and I was done for the day, about to go to bed. Then here it comes…The (and I kid you not) answer: “If you are tired can I give you a good massage am very good. And you are moving and I don’t know if I will see you again and I like to have a beautiful memory of…you. :)” More like he wanted a beautiful memory of my vagina. Um, NO.
Seriously? Men, let me help you out and give you a little advice here: If your neighbor has lived next to you for 3 years and has Never shown an interest in your what-so-ever…save yourself from the embarrassment of the “Hell will freeze over before That ever happens!” response…and just don’t do it. Choose to be a nice guy who just offers to help move – no other “offers” attached. M’kay? Good.
Next is the Friends Drama Frenzy category. Because one cannot have a big move or life change, without drama from friends. So the trick is knowing which ones to cut, and which ones to keep…kind of like Kenny Rogers in The Gambler. Because there is normal Everyone-is-just-tired-tired-from-helping-you-pack drama, and there is the W-T-H-? Drama. Drop the ones who bring the WTH? ones…you don’t need them. Stop. Drop. And Run. Like the wind. And don’t look back.
And we cannot forget my personal favorite category of moving..The I-am-a-klutz-and-am-trying-not-to-trip-and-break-my-neck-or-anythng-in-the-boxes category. Yes, my name is Ada (middle name Grace) and I am a Klutz. And during this packing marathon, I have tripped over boxes, tape, kitchen things, piles of clothes, bubble wrap, dishes, the contents of drawers, the cats, the floor, my own feet (well the last two I trip over even when I am not moving)…
Last, but not least is Drink and pack…that involves the amount of wine that can be consumed while packing, and still have the items still effectively packed and protected. In other words – does it look like an adult packed the box, or a 5 year old? While wine (and chocolate) help make everything better, it may be time to cut back if it looks like Santa’s very young elves packed your Grandmother’s china. Not good.
So the art of moving is just that…an art. Truly. So, even though it is a time consuming hassle, enjoy it, make it fun and try to to break anything…
It is the rush of the holidays, with all the shopping, parties, dinners, decorating and family get-togethers. It is a time that we seem to rush around, hardly time to do anything besides get to the next thing we have to do. And this holiday season seems to be busier than those past.
But last night I took a walk in my quiet little neighborhood. I listened to the silence of the evening, looked at the lights and Christmas decorations that were around. There were children playing in the distance, laughing and running. I thought about my life, and the past year. All of the ups and downs, all of the events that made it 2013.
And through all of it all, there have been so many blessings woven in, even the bad times. I just needed some time and space to see them. And isn’t that how it always is? Things always seem to work out for the best, and end up just as they should. We just may not ever be able to predict the road that gets us there.
This year I have seen love, loss, heartache, joy, anger, Peace, struggles, having money, being poor, letting go, hanging on, breathing in, cleaning out and rising up .I have supported my family and had others support and help me. When I think back at just what has happened in the past year, it’s almost overwhelming to think of it all.
But I am so very thankful for being here, right now, in this place. It’s been a long road, but Bliss is all around. And it had taken a lot of work. Many think that happiness just lands in a persons lap. It doesn’t. It’s a decision you make and re-make every day. Work you do to keep it every day. But it’s worth it, to do what you need to do to be happy and healthy.
So this holiday season, take .a moment. Pause and reflect. Eve for those for whom the holidays are difficult, take pause and look around. When you do, I promise you will see wonderful things around you . No matter where you are, it could be worse, but it’s not. And the good thing is if you feel like you are at the bottom, there is now where to go but up.
Take a moment, see the lights and the decorations. Enjoy the cold crisp air. Notice the energy of others around you. Enjoy your favorite TV shows, some hot tea, or a warm bowl of soup. Because it’s the small things that add up to making a good life. But we must take time to appreciate them.
It is Fall here in the south. The weather is turning cooler, with the highs in the low 80’s and high 70’s. At night the air is crisp and cool, promising the cold of the winter to come. In a word, it is delicious. I love this time of year. The air-conditioning gets turned off and the windows or up at night, as the cooler temperatures makes sleeping under a warm blanket a wonderful experience…until you try to get out of bed the next morning. Car rides have the windows down and the radio up, as the cool fall air mixes with the warm sun to make the perfect recipe for road trip.
The fall festivals have already started, and the leaves are beginning to turn colors. The air is light and fresh, as are the spirits of those around. Yes, it is fall, yummy, cool, promising, busy and fun. This weekend was a great taste of what is to come.
Family is a big part of my life. My youngest nephew came up with his girlfriend to explore and go to see a concert. Leaving us boring adults behind, they went shopping, eating, concert going and had much fun just being together. But I suspect we boring old people had much more fun.
Friday night were “crack tots” and beer with friends. Crack tots, true to their name, are highly addictive. You cannot just have one of these delicious tots dipped in equally addictive cheese sauce. Thank goodness they have no calories either (at least that is what I tell myself as I devour them). Later that night my nephew and his girlfriend arrived, and there was much laughter and love.
Saturday was crazy busy, as once again the two lovebirds went out looking for cool things to do in Atlanta. Breakfast was cooked, more laughter and lots of activity around the Burch household. Then it was time for the adults to play, as we planned a fun time downtown. A friend of mine has a brother who bought a favorite bar, so we went down for the celebration. And we celebrated a lot. There were hugs of friend that I had not seen for a=years, laughter, catching up, eating and drinking. There was great live music, an old bank vault filled with everything Elvis, dancing and lots of Johnny Cash. There were pictures and smiles, and of course, several times I nearly tripped.
Sunday brought about sleeping late, brunching and lots of laughter and love
And I have to say that I am falling in love…with this season, and these weekends, and my family, and this time, these moments, in life. I am falling for Fall. And it is wonderfully delicious!
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ― Lao Tzu
More than anything, our lives are about love. It is what we search for, cave, need and if we do not have it in our lives, we are surely very miserable. And the love of which I speak is not just romantic love, though we do search for that as well. I speak of love in general – love of family, love of friends, mates, companionship, even pets. We seek, more than anything in our lives, to love and be loved on all levels.
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And if we are really lucky in life, we find these loves. And if we are really, really lucky, we find them and have them all at the same time, all the different loves and all the different levels.
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And still some ask whether it is better to love or be loved. But I ask why? Why not accept that you can have both, and be both loved and love others?
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This is where I find myself to day. as I look around this weekend, the weekend before my 40th birthday, as I look at all my dear friends family and loves, I realize how lucky I truly am. To have all those I love around me, and who love me too, is an amazing thing indeed. And to have all this love around me as I enter into another decade, is truly amazing.
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This weekend has been celebrating the many blessings in my life, with the many people who I am blessed to have in my life. And truly this birthday, and this next decade will be amazing, because of them. This weekend has been filled with wine, food and love. Stories, dirty jokes, conversations by fireplaces, tall tales, laughter tears of joy, many toasts and so much more. Cooking and talking in the kitchen, hugs, kisses, long late night conversations, holding hands and celebrating LIFE.
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And this I can say, to love this much and be loved this much in my life, is .wonderful. They are my heart and my soul, my loves, my hope, my dreams. They are the light that makes life brighter and the giggle in my heart. I am the luckiest and happiest girl indeed! And I cannot wait for what this next year, the next 10 years, the next 20 years…bring! My life and my heart are so full, that I cannot imagine life being any better. My dreams have come true.
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But that is what loving and being loved does to you.
I have a confession to make. And it’s pretty big, so you may want to sit down. Here it is: I am a misfit. Yep. Totally. Absolutley.
According to the Briggs-Meyers personality test, I am an ENTJ, which for those people who know me in reality, describes me to a T. And I am also quite a bit of a misfit. I am clumsy, often put my foot in my mouth, my entire life is a sitcom of embarrassing and Bridget Jones type situations. And my lack of ability to spell on this blog puts me in rare company. Let’s face it, anyone who manages to drop their drug test pee cup in front of a super hot guy, or trip over a couch in a furniture store just has to accept the fact that they are different.
But everyone else is different too, that makes me normal. Kind of.
Being a misfit is not all bad. Many people and companies can benefit from the “misfits.” These traits are what also make me creative and able to write so well. These traits are what give me the ability to communicate with such a huge cross-section of people about such a wide array of topics. These traits are also what get me into trouble from time to time.
Details are very important. and they are the bane of my existence. I am horrible at details. When I was in school, I could do the math in my head, but hard a hard time getting the right answers when I worked them out long hand. Want to see both a frustrated student and teacher? Try a student who can only do the math in her head, and a teacher who can’t get the student to get the right answer worked out on paper. I couldn’t explain how I got it right, but the teacher knew I wasn’t cheating because I did not have access to the answers.
Which is more important though, the ability to pay attention to detail, or the ability to concentrate? Not sure. I do have great concentration abilities. Which is good because I am so bad at details. I have to concentrate very hard to be meticulous. And it works. I often uncover details in my research that no one else can find and am able to put the information together in ways others can not connect. And the great thing about being an adult and not in school is that you can just call it “instinct,” and then you don’t have to explain it on paper.
Listening is also a great ability to have, but it is one that does not come natural to me either. That is because many times my brain is going so fast with ideas that I miss out on what the other person is saying. I have to concentrate, once again, on slowing down and make a conscious effort to listen. That takes an effort. So what it boils dow to is this: If I care about you I will listen to you. If I don’t, I won’t. Because if I don’t care about you, why would I care what you have to say? It’s not very politically correct, but that is the reality.
What I have found about listening is that it’s an intensely intimate act. To quiet your own thoughts down enough to hear the other persons voice is tremendous. To really take in what they are saying, comprehend the meaning behind it, and listen to what they are not saying as well. Listening is an act of compassion, caring, empathy and love. Because just the single act of listening creates connection. You cannot truly listen to another and not feel a connection, whether positive or negative.
Listening also forces you to take a step back and consider other possibilities. I am a bit of a control freak, but if I listen to what someone I care about wants, and it is different from what I want, I have to let go. I have to give up control and let the other person in. Listening forces you to let go, because if you care about the other person, what they want and how they feel, you want them to be happy. Others cannot be happy if you are always in control.
Another thing that makes me a misfit? The fact that when I am in my car I have conversations in my head. I think of how the best way to handle meetings, conflicts and conversations. I plan out what I need to say and how. That is how much of a control freak I am. So listening to others helps me stay connected with others. Listening helps me let life unfold on it’s own, without my interference.
Those are the big things that contribute to my misfitness. There are also the issues of my extreme clumsiness, my inability to grow houseplants without killing them, the fact that I must walk on my tip toes when happy or when going up stairs, the extreme need for a daily fix of chocolate and a ridiculous work ethic.
But looking around, many others have those issues too. So maybe we can all be misfits, together.
So here it is, the last day of the month. The last day of the Thankfulness exercise. You should be thankful every day, for all the gifts you have and take for granted. But this has been a great exercise, to make a conscience effort, every day, to be thankful for something, then take the time to write it down. It has been fun, I have learned much and I walk away more aware than I was before. And for the last days:
Day 29, Well Being: These days there is just a general sense of well being all around. I am aware of how luck and blessed I am,for so much in my life. And a sense of well being is not to be taken for granted, and I have done that in the past. When you go through hard times, you loose that sense, and when you gain it back again, months later, you are very aware of it. And I am thankful.
Day 30, my body: I am very thankful for my body. I have made great use of it,m and it has been of great service to me. I have taken this body through so much. I have abused it, fed it poorly, given it little rest, and yet it has never failed me. I have put this body on top of a horse, on boats, across miles of running and walking paths, over mountains and rainy days, pushed it up stairs when it was tired and sore, traveled to difference continents, lifted tons of weight, carried broken hearts, the souls and of dead, the darkness of fears and the light of hope. I have poundedthe pavement with this body, cried an ocean of endless tears, been cold, hungry, restless and with every heart beat, my body has given me more than I would have ever thought. This body carried my hope, dreams, thoughts, love, disappointments, joy, laughter, mischief, sadness, madness, my spirit, intellect and that that is light and dark within me. It is truly marvelous.
I have often written about those sitcom moments…those moments in life that are just so…embarrassing, bad, funny, weird, ridiculous, that if they happened on TV they would be hysterical? But they are happening in your life so all you can do is roll your eyes and hope one day it will be funny?
I have had many moments like that…like the time I tripped over an atoman in a furniture store, in front a a hot guy, or the time I dropped the pee-cup at a pre-employment drug test – in front of a hot guy. Or the time I was buying a lip gloss and 3 packs of granny panties as a gag gift for my mother, and saw my hot next door neighbor (who did not believe the granny panties were for my mother).
Today was another. I got up early today, got dressed and I looked very nice, if I do say so myself. I had on my hot skinny pants, a sleek sweater, my hair and make up was looking good. I was in a great mood (especially for a Monday), and had a spring in my step. I went the store for my daily cup of coffee. The fact that I had not yet had my first cup of coffee should have been the first red flag. I am a clumsy girl to begin with, mix that with not having had my morning caffeine and anything could happen.
After I mixed the cream and sugar into the wonderful cup of caffeinated goodness, I turned around quickly and….slapped smack dab into a beautiful man who is tall, dark, handsome, and who now had a donut smashed all over his jacket. And all over mine too. As well as a small amount of hot coffee.
Great.
Cup of hot, steaming coffee embarrasment, anyone?
This only happens in the presence of really hot, sexy men. If it was a little old lady behind me, this never would have occurred. Hot men are my kryptonite.
The usual apologies were made, as he looked at me like I was a cute alien from another planet. He was nice about it, laughed and said he needed to get his coat cleaned anyway. I am sure I turned 50 shades of red.
Just proof that I am an amazing woman who has it together…until a hot guy is around. At least I wasn’t buying knives.
There is something for which I am looking, searching, reaching. After this weekend I finally know what it is. I am looking to make my life my home. This past year, with my Dad’s health, and all the other upheaval that has been going on, I have pretty much been in survival mode – just gettting through it.
But what does making your life your home mean? To me, it means a place where you are comfortable, that feels good, a place from which you do not want to escape. Everyone will go through rough times, where we really would trade with someone esle for a while, but as a general rule, your life should be where you are happy. And if you are not, it’s never to late to change. You just have to ask, how do you want it to feel?
Yesterday, in addition to writing, I also started cleaning up my house. I changed out all my seasonal clothing and pulled out all of my sweaters, In the process I started cleaning out my closets and my office. So many people have been on my house over the last year…my parents, sister, nephew, friends staying when I was out of town, a couple boyfriends and roommate from Hell. All of them had left stuff, things left behind. Everything ranging from old luggage, to clothes, to computer stuff, to chargers, to pictures, to old shoes, to old paperwork to, just stuff. Because things were so hectic, it was just a stuffing the stuff into a place it would fit for the time being and moving forward.
But at some point we all have to clean out our closets. And it is the same in life. You have to get rid of the old baggage, that old stuff that others have left behind in your soul, your spirit, your life. You must clean out, not only to make room for the great things to come, but also to lighten your load, brighten the mind and just get rid of the crap. And who wants to carry another person’s left over, left behind baggage? Our own baggage is heavy enough.
And that is also a lesson for me in my life. I don’t need to take care of everyone. I have my own problems to deal with, so I cannot deal with everyone else’s baggage too. We must be selfish enough in our life, for our life, to back away and say, “No, this is yours, not mine. Take it to your house and leave it there.” When we are not selfish enough to do that, we end up completely depleted, because we carry their baggage plus your own. That is what I did this past year. No more.
Sometimes, you also have to be selfish and honest enough to say you have nothing to offer another person right now. “Because I am taking care of myself. You can come into my life, but I cannot take care of you.”
So there I was, throwing things away, getting rid of everything that was not needed. But how to tell what should stay and what should go? If it wasn’t mine, if wasn’t not usefull, if it didn’t serve me, if I did not have some sentimental attachment to it – it was thrown out. It really was cathartic. There is still quite a bit to go through, but what I have done is a good start to making my life my home.
I want my life to feel good, happy, and fullfilling. I want it to feel warm, settled, and at Peace. Because I want to feel settled and at Peace. And that is what it shall be. And the rest of the year, will be fantastic, because I am taking care of me and making my life my home – warm, cozy, welcoming, Peaceful and fulfilling.
As I was cleaning out everything in my house, I was thinking of how I used to be when I was younger. One of the things was that I was much more self sufficient. When I was younger, I didn’t want any men in my life. So, I didn’t have a handyman, I didn’t keep boyfriends, and I did not let any man do anything for me, no fixing of things, nothing.
After I came back from New York, all of my friends said that if I wanted to find love, that I needed to open op, let people in, be vulnerable and need. They said that I needed to stop being so hard, soften up a little. And so I did. But I think I did it too much.
So, I am not calling a handyman to fix the things I need done. I am doing it myself. I will move the dreadmill treadmill myself, I will hang the dartboard myself, I will fix the running toilets myself and I will figure out that piece of the garage door myself too. Forget waiting on a guy getting around to it, or finding a boyfriend who is handy around the house so he can fix it for me. I am smart and there is no reason I cannot figure this stiff out myself.
Just don’t be surprised by DIY blogs, because while I am sure I can do/fix all of it, I would be naive to think that me + clumsy + tools would not equal anything less than comedic results.
There is nothing like dating a superman. A man who is sexy, funny, smart, helpful, a gentleman, but can still make your scream, compassionate, mature, intelligent, good looking, crafty, handy, snuggly, romantic, talented…in essence, the whole package. The kind of man that you say you want when you are a little girl, and wonder if still exists when you are an adult. There is nothing like being smitten and there is nothing like having another chance and working things through. And sometimes that means taking chances and making changes.
Taking chances for me in being vulnerable and exposing raw emotions, being brutally honest with myself and others. And what is so great is that, even though it has taken me a little while to build up the courage, there has been respect, compassion and understanding waiting for me. It is a truly amazing thing that has renewed a very weary soul and jaded outlook.
Making changes is taking the time to truly slow down and absorb. It is putting my money where my mouth is when it comes to giving compassion and asking for the gift of Grace. You cannot just ask for these things when you pray, you have to actively seek them out and practice them. As with all novices, I may be bad at it in the beginning…but I will keep on trying, until I have Grace that is a reflection of God, or at least I will come as close to it as I can. But it is hard. I must first seek to have a true understanding of Grace — what is is, what it means, what it looks like and how it moves, in order to have it and give it.
Another change is to stop being so defensive. Being defensive, if I am truly honest, comes from fear and insecurity. Fear of being judged and insecurity that people will not like what they see and walk away. Everyone fears those things to some extent. Especially when mistakes have been made, or you feel ashamed of some decisions that were made, or outcomes from those decisions. And when we are defensive, we block the love, patience and compassion that are extended to us from others, rejecting their very wonderful gift. Not being defensive, I also suspect, is another aspect of having Grace.
So while I am truly drowning in the wonderfulness of my Superman, I am also busy joyfully working on taking chances and making changes. Life is delicious and it is up to me to keep it that way. I want to slow down and be still. I want to enjoy each. Little. Moment. Drink it up and savor it, so that nothing of this time slips by or is forgotten. I want to do all those wonderful domestic things that make a house a home. I want to be fully engaged in my life. And I want the Grace to make sure those I love feel at home where ever they are with me.
What gives you Peace will make you happy. And where there is Peace, there is love.
I walk on my tiptoes when I am happy, and most of the time when I am walking up stairs.
I love what I call Bachelor Food. It is a dish that my father gave me and I loved it. It is mayonnaise on a Saltine cracker (spread nice and thick), with a slice of cheese and a dill pickle on top. Sound disgusting? Good, more for me. 🙂
I am a messy eater…and if I wear white, the chances of me spilling something of a darker color on it raises 150% It is not a matter of if, but when.
I have a beautiful singing voice and can out-sing Celine Dion. But only in my car.
I prance around the house. A lot. Especially when I am happy.
I hum when doing dishes or other housework.
I hate taking the trash out and filling my car with gas.
I try to be a good housekeeper…but sometimes it just isn’t in me.
I will loose my purse, my keys, my cell phone, my drink and maybe even my shoes, at least once a day.
I steal men’s socks. Yes I do. This started back in the 80’s when the big bulkie socks were in style. I would go and raid my fathers sock drawer. Eventually Mom told me he didn’t mind me stealing his socks, but he was getting low so could I please replace them? So, every father’s Day, Christmas, Birthday, anniversary, I would give my Dad socks. And still do to this day. He expects them and will get very disappointed if he does not receive them from me.
I love my work and can be a bit of a work-a-haulic.
I never fart. Ever. Even if you think I have, I haven’t.
I still have some stuffed animals from my childhood and will never get rid of them.
I love painting my toe nails.
I always put my hand over my heart when the National Anthem Plays…even if no one else is doing it.
If I go to a live sporting event – especially a ball game – I MUST have a chili cheese dog.
I love lipstick.
I listen to my radio very loud in the car…most of the time at the top volume (turn it up to 11).
I have many times written about my life being a bit of a sitcom, meaning there are moments that are so…wrong, funny, embarrassing, surreal, that you just know it would be really funny if you were watching it on TV. But you are not, you are actually living it. Well, had another one of those moments today…
About 11ish, I noticed the very strong smell of garlic. It was strong enough that I was wondering if someone was wearing it around their neck. And throughout the day, it just seemed to get stronger. Seriously, did someone think we work with vampires?? Geeze!
I left work about 6…and grabbed my container of lasagna that I brought for lunch but did not eat (hey, sometimes a girl just needs a greasy cheeseburger!). The container sat at my desk the entire day, as I never did make it to the kitchen to put it in the fridge. And as I was walking to my car I noticed that strong smell of garlic was also following…because it was the lasagna. Great. I usually have several people stop by my desk/cube during the day and noticed I had fewer visitors today. I just thought everyone was busy.
I chuckled to myself, a bit embarrassed, and headed home, lasagna in the car, in the passenger seat next to me. It only took a few stinky minutes before it was overwhelming me in the car. It was like having someone with (really) bad indigestion in the seat next to you. I rolled down the windows (I don’t think it was even 60 outside). There I was, windows down, heat on high because of this super garlic lasagna. I imagine the aroma coming out of the car was like a group of people smoking a lot of cigarettes.
I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I pulled into a gas station and just threw the whole container away. It still took a few miles with the windows down to completely get the smell out of my car. I can only imagine what my poor co-workers went through today…and hope I will not be known as Garlic Girl.
I lead an exciting, sitcom and garlic filled life…don’t be jealous. I can hear you laughing…
Art consists of limitation. The most beautiful part of every picture is the frame. Gilbert K. Chesterton
Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding, find out what you already know, and you’ll see the way to fly. Richard Bach
There are three methods to gaining wisdom. The first is reflection, which is the highest. The second is limitation, which is the easiest. The third is experience, which is the bitterest. Confucius
We all must know our limitations. Knowing what we can and cannot do keeps us out of trouble and in line. Yes, even for a risk taker like me, knowing what my limitations are keeps me in line. We must also never take ourselves too seriously that we cannot not at ourselves and our limitations. So here, for your knowledge and entertainment are a list of my most glaring limitations and things I simply will never be able to do or be good at.
Grace: No matter how hard I try I will never be graceful. Period. Not even if I trained at the Russion Ballet would I have grace…and I am pretty sure they would not even let me in the building, because I would probably trip on a piece of floor on my way into the building. The grace police would come and escort me out Yep, it would ugly.
The Ability to sew: I skipped Home-Ec in school, and it shows. I can sew a button back on a coat, or maybe fix the hymn on my pants, but beyond that…you really don’t want to trust me with sharp pointy objects (see above).
Singing: I can only sing in my car…and occasionally in the shower. Well actually I can sing everywhere, but I do not because my voice is so beautiful that no one would ever buy any album but mine, and I would not want to ruin all of those other music stars.
Drinking: I will never be able to drink more than two drinks before getting tipsy. Trust me, I’ve tested this one.
Poker: I will always loose at poker. Unless it’s Texas Hold’em, then that is completely different. I rock that game. And I suck at all others.
Jeopardy: I will never be able to question all the answers, no matter how hard I try, no matter how many books I read, no matter how much I cheat…it will never happen.
Whistling: I will never be able to whistle. I have been trying to do this since childhood. Maube it’s time to stop.
Wiggling my ears, rolling my R’s: Same as above, though I will also never quit trying. I keep thinking that, just like the lottery, today may be the day…
My check book: Ever since I was a little girl I have been able to do math in my head but not on paper. It took forever to find a teacher to understand that I was not cheating when I could tell her the answers without actually working the problem. My check book is the same way. I can keep track of every bit of math…until I actually try to write it down in the registry.
Shoes: I cannot pass up a great pair of shoes that are on sale. I have tried. I have failed. Now I just don’t go into the shoe store unless I have money.
Spelling: I try, I really try…but typo’s will be the death of me. And the sad thing is that I am an editor. But I can spot misspelled word or bad sentence structure a mile away on someone else’s work. But my own? Fahgetaboutit! IT must be like a psychic trying to read their own future…
Christmas Trees: I cannot Not put up a Christmas tree. Yes, it leans a bit to the left because of the Christmas Light Incident of 2009…but I don’t care. It is still my little tree and I will put it up every year…with as many lights and ornaments as it can possible hold. IT may be a little tacky, but it’s my tree.
Oreos: There is a reason why it is plural. It is because I cannot eat just one…or two…or even three. I must eat the entire bag.
So there they are, my limitations. Of course there are many more, but those are a good start. My therapist would be so proud!
Written a few years ago and thought I would share. Enjoy!
This year I could not wait to put up my Christmas tree, so last night I broke out the new artificial one (the cat peed on the one last year, so had to throw it away). As I weaved the lights in and out of the limbs on the tree, my heart filling with the joy and excitement that only the season can provide, I noticed the light strand was a bit tangled.
Now, if you find yourself in this situation, please, unplug the lights before untangling. I did not do this and found myself temporarily blinded when finished and looked back up at the tree. Well, in the true spirit of a Pinktank (my nickname), I tripped over where the lights were plugged into the wall – falling, blindly, flailing, into the Christmas tree.
As the tree and I not so gracefully fell to the floor, I could hear “Chestnuts Roasting…” playing in the background. When the fall had been completed, I was tangled in a combination of lights, light chords and Christmas tree limbs. Surely anyone watching would have died laughing, as I clumsily tried to stand up, still attached to the tree; it jerking and moving in ways that are completely unnatural for an artificial tree, and I spitting out plastic needles. The cats had run into the corner, shaking in fear that this Christmas tree monster might come and eat them (maybe this will be enough to keep them out of it).
I did finish decorating the tree and no ornaments were harmed…can’t say the same for the tree. It is now a little lopsided and leans a bit to the left.
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