So I started to answer some questions. And then I answered some more. And then I contracted a world-class case of the ennui. And then someone I know in real life told me to stop being such a lazy-ass. (Not her exact words. But it was implied. In her eyes. Even though they were behind sunglasses. I’m pretty intuitive, that way.)
So let’s see what we can get done today, shall we?
From Grumpy, who lives upside down, on the other side of the planet:
“In ‘another life’ what job would you be doing/place would you be living in?”
Grumpy, you could have no way of knowing that I obsess DAILY over what my life would have been like if I’d done X instead of Y. If I had turned right instead of left. If I’d gone with the non-lead based paint….
So this is a good one.
If I could swing for the fences, have whatever I wanted, live where I wanted, do what I wanted, no consequences, no hurt feelings, I think I’d be living in Europe (in a country where there’s a healthy amount of English spoken, because man, I suck out loud at other languages), drinking possibly even more wine and eating even more cheese than I do now, but somehow being miraculously thinner than I am. I would have figured out that I wanted to be a writer, not pissed around with suppressing the urge and finding something practical, and just done it. I’d be slutting it up, discreetly, and letting my hair grow long.
Yuri from Urbanvox, (after a considerable amount of preamble), asked:
“what’s your favorite ice cream flavor????”
So I think, “easy one”, and start to answer, when the paranoia creeps in, as it so often does. What does my favorite ice cream flavor say about me? What if I innocently tell the truth, and it turns out Maple Walnut indicates I’m likely to have a foot fetish?
So I checked it out. Turns out Vanilla means you are NOT boring, Coffee ice cream lovers are dramatic, and Organic Mango & Freshly Squeezed Kumquat means you’re a pretentious wanker. (The last one is purely a result of field studies, and has not been scientifically proven. Yet.) My favorite, Mint Chocolate Chip,
means I am ambitious and confident and skeptical. (One out of three ain’t bad.) (Well, actually, it is. They don’t know me at ALL.)
Jaymie, who muses over here, asks:
“Most challenging life moment so far? How did you get through it?”
You know, when you put it that way, I’ve been pretty damn lucky. Knock on a great big piece of wood, but I’ve never had anyone I loved get really sick, or even die. And when you think of it that way, the rest is a bit of a cake walk, now isn’t it?
But you asked, so I’ll answer. This whole damn parenting thing? This is challenging. You’re making decisions whose impact might not be seen for 10 or 20 years, sacrificing until it becomes rote, pouring every resource you can get your hands on into another person(s), and you’re doing the whole thing with a serious sleep deficit. There have been moments, ugly, atrocious, cringing in my soul moments, when I’ve seen very clearly how babies get shaken. And abandoned. And wrecked. How did I get past them? I have no clue. I just did.
Deborah from bedrest banshee, had a pretty involved question:
“Q1: Do you ever feel that maybe, just maybe – you ARE”hot”? As in milf not menopausal. If so, when?
Q2: If there was a, how you say, “Indecent Proposal” – for you, for your husband? Would you? Would you let him? Let’s say $75K tax free in small unmarked bills for you, let’s say an untraceable $25K for him.
Q3: who do you currently think – famous or local, of all the people you know or view, has the most confidence in their own appeal. Not arrogance, confidence.”
Ahem. There was a one question limit, Deb. (Good thing I like you. I will persevere.)
Every now and again, for about 5 minutes at a time, I feel hot-ish. And yes, it helps if I think I’m looking OK, but really? It’s when I’m actively engaging with another person, talking, entertaining, really nailing a good conversation. It’s the only way that being “hot” feels authentic to me.
As to the Indecent Proposal scenario, um, well, I could really use some money. I couldn’t sleep with someone in that situation. Owen could. I’d have no problem letting him. The problem would come when he failed to show the appropriate amount of remorse and self-loathing, afterward. (And can I just say how much I enjoy that you valued me 3X higher than him? You’re brilliant.)
As to confidence, that’s a tricky bit of business. Because what I’m starting to understand is that the people who seem the most confident to me are the hottest messes, just under the surface. And that we’re all faking it until we make it. If we ever do.
And finally, the question that made me spit diet Coke when I first read it, from Rassles:
“You would go gay for me, wouldn’t you?”
Yup. Just a matter of time, toots.