Through Another Set of Eyes

Over the past couple of weeks I have been provided descriptions of myself by people who I know in varying degrees. I hadn't solicited any of these remarks--at least directly. And none were unkind. It's just interesting and thought-provoking to hear what about you strikes someone.

The first was one I've heard before--comments on my eyes. I have to say they're probably my best asset (there aren't many to choose from). They are blue (fading over time). I have long eyelashes to go with it, so they work. But what also has been interesting is that I also was subjected to a family photo in which my first reaction to my own image was that I don't know why people comment on my eyes because you can't really see them. I've always felt this way about photos of myself. My eyes I think are only my asset when you see me up close in person. Great, I'm a close up kind of gal. I guess that's why I never got picked out of the crowd to go up on stage with Bono and have him serenade me. Yeah, that's the reason.

I have a sort of intensity. Now granted this was used to describe the person I was more than a decade ago, and at that point in my life I thought I was going to change the world. So I can sort of understand it, but the person went on to describe that impression by a quality of mine I don't think has softened with age. I tend not to suffer fools well. Now granted this is my definition of fool. And I would guess that my definitions have softened. I think, I hope that I have become a bit more understanding over time. It's just funny, because I never would have thought of myself as intense. I love to be silly, to have fun. I don't skulk around, wear lots of black eyeliner and only listen to The Cure (have I dated myself?). I love Disney World, dancing to 80's music and singing at the top of my lungs.

I'm so open--to the point of being intriguing. Okay, this I know about myself. On the outside I seem very open because I'm willing to talk about things and ask questions that many others would not. What most people don't know--or maybe they do and I'm just kidding myself--is that there is so much inside that I don't share--at least not with the general public. Certain people see certain sides of me. And I have to admit, there is really only one or two who know the whole thing. And, I'm still amazed they love me.

A Free Flow of Thoughts

Friends brought home a new dog today--a cute Labradoodle puppy. Her name is Elsa. This reminded me of Elsie the Cow of Bordon fame. Remember when gallons of milk came in big huge cartons rather than plastic jugs? I associate Bordon milk with that. Which reminds me of Sealtest milk. I think it might have been a Northeastern brand. Same with StateLine potato chips. And Charles Chips--they used to be delivered by a man and came in a big metal tin. Can you imagine a successful business of delivering potato chips to people's homes? I don't remember them be THAT good. My neighbors the Clarks used to get them. Mr. Clark was a State Trooper and a nurse. We had two male nurses that lived on our street. When I was little I thought it was odd that there were male nurses. My mom was a nurse and all of her co-workers who were nurses were female. Interestingly, neither of the men who were nurses were working as nurses. I wonder if they became nurses during Viet Nam. I'll have to ask mom.

Took a drive through my old hometown last week. It was fun to see all of those places. I love both of the towns and could see myself living in either of them again. I just don't know what I'd do for a living. I love the feel of a New England town. The town green, the one post office, the grocery store where you know the owner. When I was little, Gus DiNova the owner of the only grocery store in town saved my from rolling my mom's car into traffic. He yelled at me because I had put the car in neutral and was rolling backwards out of the parking lot. I think he yelled because it scared him. But his yelling scared me and I cried all the way home and up into my bedroom. I thought I was in so much trouble. Turns out my mom wasn't mad at me and now that I'm a mother I realize that she probably felt stupid for leaving my sister and I in the car unattended. But it was the 70's. I don't blame her. We lived in the safest little town. I went to a red schoolhouse. No need to think anything could happen.

Okay so I've gone from my friend's new dog to small towns in the 70's. Didn't think I'd get that far in two paragraphs--though I'm sure I'm not using completely perfect structure and could probably have used a few more paragraphs.

Trying to add an entry every day again. So sometimes it's just going to be these random thoughts.

Big day for the boys. They got to use Target gift cards. New buildings for their train set and birthday boy A got a new bike, an iPod shuffle AND a headset for his PS2. Happy, happy boys. As for me? Hair dye, shampoo for color-treated hair and oh yeah, don't forget the South Beach bars. I think I would have prefered a bike.

Mamma Hates Being a Slacker

Sorry Mamma readers (if there are any of you left) it's been a while since the last post. It's summer--what can I say. Life got busy with nothing that I can remember now, but it was busy. Oh yeah, there was a vacation/family reunion which supplied more than enough stories which are best ignored. Been considering a possible change with work--but who cares about that. And meanwhile, my house just gets dirtier each day.

I'd love to be one of those people who kept a perfect house--okay I'd settle for neat. I've never been good at neat. I get too overwhelmed and just don't know where to begin. And if I manage to get one place in order, it all just goes to pot within days. Don't get me wrong. I like order. I like a clean house, ironed clothes, being able to find things instantly. It's just that I can't seem to organize myself in that way. Now at work, I'm neat. Papers are filed, desk is relatively neat, plants are watered. I think it's because there isn't too much there to get out of order. The job of maintaining order doesn't seem overwhelming. But in my house? My bedroom? It's not pretty. I truly hate this fact about myself. So you'd think I'd do something about it. But I HATE to clean. I'd much rather spend my time doing about a million other things. Like what?

Here's just a short list:

• reading
• playing with my kids
• relaxing, gardening
• shopping
• surfing the web
• watching TV
• seeing a movie
• visiting with friends
• getting a pedicure
• going to the dentist
• getting a pap smear

You get the point? I need help!! I've tried Fly Lady (too much email), books (they're just cluttering my shelves), my mom (I can't take the disappointment). Anyone have any good ideas? That don't involve hiring someone? Right now that's a discussion with my dh that is going nowhere!!!

Okay, I promise more entries. I just haven't felt very witty and haven't wanted to make anyone suffer through my boring observations. Well, there have been a few chucklers, but you all might think I've gone off the deep end if I really shared them.