So, anyhoo...

Today the Rustico prompt asked "what phrase do you overuse?".  And I laughed, because my phrase says a lot about me.  I like to talk.  So much so that my mother would tease me about it (unkindly).  Oh, for precocious children that keep you on your toes!

Where is this painting?  I can't find it !  Somewhere in my house, but where?

Its not like I'm a super engaging or gregarious person, like Mark.  But once I know someone and feel comfortable having a conversation about work or life, I'm off to the races.  I will often tell a story or some such then trail off with "anyhoo..." or "anyhoodle...".  My daughter has even picked up the habit from me, which I find funny.  She's my mini-me.  Its also funny that I don't type it, I just say it.  Almost like I don't want the conversation to end.  And when I'm chatting with one of my peeps or a friend, I guess I don't.  Anyhoodle...

Whats the worst thing you've ever done?

Oh, man.  This will be hard to write.  Sometimes late at night my brain pokes me with a sharp stick, inviting me to re-live the things I've done, stoking the guilt.  Once its done, a softer voice inside says "you learned from it and won't do it again so why torture yourself?"    Things I am not proud of:

Yep, that's me.  A cactus.

*I once told a couple of men dressed as clowns that I had just found out I had cancer.  Why?  Because they were taunting me to "smile" at work as I was coming back to the department from doing something stressful.

*As a teenager I wrote all over my mother's wood paneled walls with chalk in huge loopy letters that my step-mother was a better mother than she.  Why?  Because I was having a very hard time and she didn't seem to care.

*I scared the living daylights out of Grayson by screaming at him over him stealing a Walkman out of someone's backpack at school and getting caught on a security camera.  Why?  Because I was shocked and disappointed and scared.

*I yelled at Dylan, scaring him (at age 4!) when I was at my wit's end trying to potty train him.  Why? Because I was very low on patience and probably exhausted.

*I pinched Chloe's butt so hard it made her shriek and run from the room on Christmas Eve in '95.  Why?  She was over-excited, tired, and misbehaving.

*We agreed to spanking Spencer for misbehaving in school, and Mark did it one day, leaving bruises on the child's rear and that was a mistake that we never repeated again.  Why did we do it?  We were inexperienced parents.

*I got into serious trouble in high school with my boyfriend.  I made poor grades in college and drank too much.  I push people away, including siblings.  I was a bad employee at several jobs in the past.

But even cacti bloom

I am not a perfect person, but I love my family, so it causes me pain to make so many mistakes.   Poke, poke, poke.  

Most of these things are one-offs that I haven't repeated.  I did learn.  Still, on my deathbed, I have a lot to apologize for, even if I said sorry already.  Why is it so hard to give yourself a little grace and hear that soft voice more often?

What's your go-to social network?

I found this prompt to be somewhat ironic, given that the computer is about the only social network any of us is getting to use right now.  That being said, I only ever look at Facebook or Instagram.  Instagram mainly for people's photos of their kids/dogs, wineries happenings, what someone cooked.  The only reason for me to look at Facebook at all is for the memes.

Which are hilarious and clever and only a teensy bit political, if at all.  A welcome break.

I don't even read the news unless I am at work, which has become not so much a respite from the virus/political news as a mind-numbing challenge of who can get through the next 8 hours of boredom.  Which I guess I should be grateful for.  Things at work could always be worse.

Anything with Chuck Norris makes me laugh.

Funny things are almost always true things.  Or things you have secretly thought, yourself...

 I know that some folks are starting to feel squirrel-y - I think Mark is feeling the stress.  He's gone from being his workplace cheerleader to simply helping his co-workers put out their work-from-home fires.  He doesn't even wear shoes during the week, which I think is a mistake if you are trying to get your mind into the work zone.   I guess its a saving grace that I get to leave the house 4 days out of 7.

Otherwise I would be home wearing my ratty tee shirts and men's boxers with my houseshoes all day.  Thank goodness all I have to do is pull on clean scrubs and pack some leftovers for dinner.  No point in fixing my hair (I need a haircut badly) so I just pull it into a pony tail and call it done.  Make-up is very minimal.  Earrings on.  Boom.  I'm ready to go.

If you rely on any sort of social media for any news or updates you will  be woefully uninformed, and yet I see people every day on there who instead of trying to connect with people, or laugh, continue pushing their social and political agendas.  I just scroll past.

For me, there is no greater medicine than laughter.

If I think too far ahead to June or July, I feel like we'll never get there.  So far away.  So many unknowns.  I mean, I want so badly for this to be over.  But I want it to be really over.  None of this gradual return to life crap.

I think when all of this social distancing is over, can we go back to actually in-person social networks?  Remember meeting people and having face to face convos?  Remember hugs and handshakes?  Groups of folks enjoying themselves?

My first job.

My first job, at age 15, was at a Baskin-Robbins in Galveston, Texas.  {my older sister, Maggie, worked at a different BR in Galveston for a short time, and I thought it sounded like a fun job.  She used to bring us home whatever we wanted!} Digging around in my photos, I realized I didn't have any pictures of this, but here's what I looked like at that age:

My hair was always long, no matter how hot it got in the summer!

Galveston in the 70's was a fun place - lots for teenagers to get in trouble with.  The beach was where we mostly hung out - riding bikes along the seawall, eating at Jack In The Box or Whataburger or Taco Bell, and working on our tans.  But having a job meant my summer free time was fairly well occupied.  In addition, I had some financial responsibility (and freedom) as my dollar or two weekly allowance wasn't cutting it.  My hourly pay was something like $1.50 an hour, and most of it went to things like clothes, albums, and my cafeteria lunch card at school.  My mother abruptly stopped giving me allowance at that point, anyway.  I met other teenagers, got my first boyfriend, and ate all the ice cream I could.  To this day I remember the feel of the hot metal ice cream scoop in my hands and the smell of the deep freeze.  My favorite flavors were Jamoca Almond Fudge and Pralines and Cream.  I'm not sure I learned any valuable life lessons there, but it was fun.  And I guess it kept me out of trouble for a time...