I would like to not have any vices, such as wanting a beer at two in the afternoon on a 90 degree day. I would like to be funny all the time, except for when it’s inappropriate to be funny. Then I would like to be able to be serious without holding back a laugh. I would like to not care what other people think of me. I would like to be a great mom all the time. I would like to weigh 15 pounds less, have muscular arms, but not too muscular, and have the Kennedy jaw. I would like everybody to write really wonderful comments on my page.
But here I am at two, no, now it’s four in the afternoon, not being very funny, worrying about what other people think, while my children watch Cartoon Network in the basement. I’m staring at the zero comments and sipping my beer. I have the same inferior Scottish chin that melts into my neck. I have no strong opinions about anything in particular. Nothing rolling around my brain that strikes me as interesting. And there are at least a dozen flies buzzing around my skylight, cousins of the dozen I already sucked up with the vacuum cleaner.
I’ve practiced smiling in the mirror so my chin looks stronger, bolder, more pronounced. I’ve brought my kids snacks and drinks and walked the dog. But still, besides my chin, there is something missing. Something I would like. When I figure it out, I’ll blog about it. I’ll post pics and pimp my page and jump up and down and say “Look! Look! I can jump up and down!”
I went to the dog park one night and my friend Jennifer, the owner of Mokey, a potcake from the Bahamas, and I had fun tossing back and forth compliments. We laughed about how bizarre it was that we continuously derived pleasure by receiving compliments from each other. Even if they were phony, they were scrumptious.
One night she told me I had a good idea. I don’t remember what we were talking about but when she said it, my ego swelled up like a sponge dinosaur in water. I interrupted her and said, “Jennifer! Jennifer! You gotta be on the receiving end of that. It felt sooo good. Watch! Watch!” And I told her in the most convincing way, “You did such a nice job on that. It was unbelievable!”
The feel good words bounced into her aura and she lit up. “Oh, my God!” she said, as if I’d just paid off her mortgage, “Thanks!!”
The ego is a dinosaur. It’s been around for freakin’ ever. It’s stupid as hell, and yet it’s still alive and kicking. She showered my ego with more affection, “That was such a great idea. It is going to be big!”
I don’t know what idea she was thinking but to be standing in a group in the dog park and have someone say that? It was awesome. I could feel that it was going to be big. All the hopes and dreams of it being really big were right there in front of me, realized. A few minutes go by and I plant one on Jennifer. “When you did that. How you did it is beyond me. But when you did, Oh. My. God! It was the coolest thing ever.”
Jennifer rose up off the lawn and hovered over the dogpark. We giggled about our stupid human trick. When the dogpark crowd shifted and new people came, we’d try it again. “What you did for that family was incredible! It completely changed their lives.”
People looked at us like we were gods, or at least white Oprahs. We loved it. I would like a lot of things. I could do without the Kennedy chin or the abs of steel. But mostly I just want to walk three feet off the ground. I don’t want to actually have to touch it. And I want muscular arms.
My son came up from the basement, wrapped his arms around me and patted my upper arm. He said “You feel like a pancake.”
“A pancake?” I felt my arm. It felt cool and smooth. “Is that good?”
“No. It feels like you’ve been sitting there all day.”
“Oh.” Damn it. It’s hard to float up out of your chair when your arms are only pancakes and you’re only human. Damn it all.
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The first three paragraphs of this are just the bomb diggity.
Amy,
great words!! I will lokk forward to more… I,too, enjoy a cold “adult beverage” in the early p.m….. My thought is why put off later what can be done now!! Tho’ sometimes dinner gets a little creative… enjoy
Amy – you are very gifted. You can write. And, unlike many people, you are not afraid to tell the truth about how you feel. That is a real gift my friend and takes a great deal of inner strength. As for you chin – Amy – you have one. I have not had a chin since I was in my teens. I may have always been thin (until now) and I, too, need to lose about 15 lbs, but no chin. Nope. It’s a real bummer. You know, though, as you’ve probably heard a million times before, that is not what is important. When I look at my own chin I think “At least I have a head, and in that head is a perfectly healthy brain.”
I don’t know that I would drink beer in the afternoon. Nope, as a matter of fact I know that I absolutely would not, but I would drink sweet tea and offer some to my babies. The beer may be what is making your thinking a little sluggish.
And, you know something, your blog is beautiful – the content is what is the most important, and who cares what other’s think. Those that have an opinion (including me) don’t live your life and what you are writing not only gives you a place to express yourself, it gives you an outlet and a place to journal your thoughts, your life, and your experiences. It’s a beautiful thing.
Your blogging friend,
Susan
Over at “RaisinToast”
Smile
Amy,
I just love the way you put things. I was having a crummy day, then read what you wrote, and felt like I needed a beer. Wait a minute, I don’t even LIKE beer. You made me laugh and that was good enough. Thanks!
A beer in the afternoon is not a vice. Your vice is wanting to be noticed. That’s okay, because you’re worth noticing in all your white womanly godliness.
Dear Troy,
The offer to be my cybergroom still stands. We can honeymoon on a hawaiian vacations website. You think anyone will notice me there? I mean us?
I used to get spam messages that started with “What a great idea!” and every time that popped up in my alert for a split second I’d get this flush of pleasure. Then I’d feel like an idiot.
If *I* ever turn to spamming as a career, I’ll spam quasi-realistic compliments.
I am so going to say that when I get muscular arms, “Well, twelve years of guitar playing and dragging band gear around the country has left me with man-arms.” Then I’ll take a drag off a fake cigarette, lean my head back, do the Cher hair shake, as if it goes all the way down my back, covering up all the good tattoos.
So…ummmm…WAAAAIIIIT..!
Wanting a beer at 2 o’clock in the afternoon is a VICE…?
Are you sure?
I think vice is a much nicer word than addiction. Work with me.
“People looked at us like we were gods, or at least white Oprahs.”
OMG. Your blogs kill me ded of the funny.
You can have my big muscular arms. Twelve years of guitar playing and dragging band gear around the country has left me with man-arms. I recently decided to pull “lifting weights” out of my exercise program because they are out-of-proportion big. When your husband tells you you’ve got nice guns, it’s time to step away from the free weights. Heh.
And it’s a good thing I don’t live closer, because wanting a beer on a hot afternoon is one of my vices too. I love a summer day drunk from waaaaaay back.