Well, it’s Labor Day weekend. The official end of summer. I’m always sad when summer draws to a close. I am thankful for the cooler temps, but then that just means that it’s going to get cold. Really cold. And my skin will start to itch. And night will fall at 5 p.m. and all the plants will die.
And, so, in “celebration” of the demise of foliage, I want to let you know that, for whatever reason, I’ve become more self-aware this summer.
Perhaps it’s true insight. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m finally to the point that I’m ready to accept how cuckoo I really am.
At any rate, I have observed my behaviors and attitudes this summer. I have listened to my inner dialogue to catch glimpses of my true personality. Here, I share my insights, mini-rants, and observations.
- I stay hot from about mid-March until the end of October. Hot. Like sweaty and dripping wet where I have to mop off my face just to get the make-up to stick (on those rare occasions that I’m putting on makeup). Therefore, I really do not enjoy outside events or parties or picnics. Eating outside in the sweltering heat is not fun for me. It’s just not. Unless an ice-cold pool is involved, would you please consider having your child’s birthday party indoors? Thank you.
- I know that you are trying to save on your electric bill, but when I pass the thermostat in your house and it reads anything over 75 degrees, I really have to rethink our friendship. I’m hot, OK? It’s 95 outside. Could you crank it back to at least 73? Especially if you ARE having a party indoors. See #1. Thank you.
- If I have paid you or your organization money for some conference, seminar, class, or similar function, will you please, please, please be organized? At minimum, I expect a nametag, a folder or notebook, and a cup of coffee. I am so “over” attending events that suck up my time AND my money. Double or triple boos if the venue is not well-ventilated and cooled. See #1.
- I think I have some claustrophobia issues. I guess I’ve always known this in a way. But now, even large crowds in a large area kind of give me a little smidge of panic. I am eager for people to just move along and clear out then I am happy to exit. Of course things aren’t any better if I happen to feel too warm. See #1.
- I am not a gardener. At least I didn’t even try this year. I talked a good game, but when push came to shove, I didn’t even fill one flower pot with a geranium. For good measure, I even managed to kill the Mother’s Day petunias the boys gave me. Maybe it has something to do with #1?
- I’ve kind of boiled it down to two things I do well: writing and cooking. I want to THINK I’m really good at a lot of other things. But I’m not. Really. Not. Oh, and finding space in the dishwasher for one more dish. I’m good at that, too. But writing and cooking and dishwasher dish placement are good, right? All indoor activities. Don’t have to worry about #1.
- I’m starting to find my way through the Blogosphere and Twitterverse. I’ve decided that bloggers (at least the ones I read) are a lot like me. And that’s why we like each other and like to blog and like to read blogs. It’s connection and expression and relationship without all the issues surrounding #4. Another indoor activity; a definite plus. I know a lot of people feel intimidated by the Internet, think it’s a grand waste of time or think it’s a breeding ground for crime. While it can be all of those things, I suppose, I’m beginning to see how other talented people (especially moms) find their outlets for their craft. Many of these talented women write of blogging as therapy. Oh, yes. That is so true for me, too. As a writer, I wonder why I didn’t embrace this sooner? (Oh, yea. I was having PPD breakdowns and nursing twins.) My sense is that the Web and the Blogosphere must be for our generation of writers something similar to what the printing press was to writers in the 1400s (Wikipedia supports my line of thinking).
- Too much extroverted time drives me to depression. I MUST be alone just to stay sane. Please leave me alone. (And I mean that in the nicest sort of way.)
- I have a bit of a rebellious streak and will act on it if pushed. Don’t get me started on how the Bellevue branch library is actually the armpit of Bellevue and how I will–from this summer forward–send my kids traipsing through the library dripping wet with those giant-bigger-than-their-heads circular, multi-colored, lollipops in their mouths.
- I am getting older. From the office chit-chat that reminds me of the young’un I used to be to my early bedtimes and general lethargy, I’m not 20 anymore. I’m barely 30 anymore. I know, I know. I’m not that old. Still, I think it’s telling that I got excited to bring home two free pill organizer thingeys (one for morning; one for evening) from the pharmacy for all my supplements and meds. On our anniversary, Chris and I saw a preview of an upcoming documentary about dolphins and were captivated. He later remarked, “You know we are getting old when we are excited about a dolphin documentary.” I think I really need the upcoming year to gracefully accept my turning 40 in 2010.
Oh, **sigh**. So long, summer of 2009. I learned a lot.