“Mom, we can’t LIVE like this!”
My only child put his hands on my cheeks with sincerity in his eyes …
“It’s 72 degrees!!!!”
His hand were freaking cold.
Ok, I know – there are those of you living in places where you slip and slide attempting to drive to work – on black ice and through blinding snow. There are those of you whose pipes no doubt shall freeze – whose breath shall be visible in the chilled air.
I get it.
But how many of you have had an 80 degree drop? And it’s not even Winter yet for crying out loud!
I peeled my eyelids open this morning and seriously wondered if Fall could write me a note to get me out of work.
“To Whom It May Concern,
Amanda was unable to come in to work today due to the complete inability to remove herself from the barely comforting ‘comforter’ and exposing herself to the 50 degree temperatures within her home.
That wasn’t going to fly probably.
I braved it … and when I say ‘braved it’ I mean, I slid an arm out of the blanket next and grabbed for my sweatshirt. Slid a leg out and poked my foot into my Ugg boot – then had to actually sit up to accomplish the same for the other foot.
Butters has suddenly become a snuggler – surprise, surprise – and she lay all cute and curled up and watched me with feigned interest as I removed myself from my bed, bit by bit.
Oh how I wished I could turn on the heater! It was 50 degrees in the house (I discovered this as I briskly trotted back to the bedroom holding a microwaved cup of yesterdays coffee.)
My pilot light went out when I accidentally shut off the gas thinking it was the water main a few months back. (Remember that? Yeah well, now we have repercussions don’t we?) Although, this does put me in a position of not breaking my annual tradition of lighting the flipping pilot and my friends and followers laughing at me doing it.
You would think I’d remember how I did it the past year – but every time (4 years now) it’s a YouTube tutorial then an ‘Ok, here we go!’ big ass event.
Feel like a hero in a movie – “I’m goin’ in!” Braving the gas and the metal and the flames to bring warmth to my little family.
Butters feigns interest for that activity too.
It’s always super rewarding when I do accomplish it though.
Speaking of accomplishing things …
I think I mentioned in my last post that we get wind.
No, not that kind.
Bitter, crazy wind that snaps and huffs and puffs and blows things down.
This weekend it was my shed. Sharp metal panels were hanging dangerously – all I could think was that if I didn’t get out and do something about it, a piece was going to completely abandon the structure and go slicing off into the air and decapitate something.
So outside I went – early in the morning with my galvanized steel wire and pliers and proceeded to stitch it together the best I could. My fingers almost needed stitching – with the flapping metal panels snagging me as I attempted to secure the pieces together, I cut myself several times. It was probably a two-man job in such weather conditions and there were zero men – only me – (I have a new saying by the way “Don’t send a man in to do an Amanda job” – that was coined at work. Lol)
Anyway – Butters, again – is busy feigning interest – I think she was just glad I was outside with her somewhere other than the porch.
She abandoned me mid project to sniff around and bark at flying debris.
I kept stitching.
Don’t know why I bothered – this morning it was all sharply hanging and dangerous again.
I’ll probably get home to find a pair of ruby slippers sticking out from beneath it – if they’re fleece lined, I’ll keep ’em.
One of the first sentences I heard today was “I think you’re too hard on yourself.”
The source was a man who I work with by association, and he barely knows me.
I tend to take all comments to heart. I absorb them, dissect them, process them.
This morning though, not so much. I just said, “Yeah, I think you’re right”
And he is.
I need to be kinder to myself.
Just this weekend I realized in the process of striving to grow, heal and improve – I had become my own bully.
I find the people that barely know me, have a better perspective than those with a lot of information.
Who we are on the surface, if we’re being authentic, really is a very accurate glimpse of who we really are deep inside.
You can judge my book by my cover apparently – as I’m very easy to read and wear my heart on my sleeve.
And I’m open to hearing what my cover is saying to people.
I think that for me, not wanting people to judge me until they know ‘the whole story’ is a cop out. It’s directly contradictory to the theory that we decide how to behave and choose who to be. My story is nothing more than an excuse.
My actions today – my cover – my choices … are who I am.