Enigma - Who am I?

Remember the Skechers claim when you wear their tone up shoes?  Well, I think I got the dyslexic version of the supposedly slimming sneaker – my backside got bigger and my topside tinier.

My whole life has been that type of a contradiction.  It started with my vacillating vision of what to be when I grew up.  I had it narrowed down between a missionary and a go-go dancer.  Never conventional were my aspirations.

Not quite raised to be a stay-at-home mom, but not enough college to support myself comfortably, I found Mr. Right and marched my way down the aisle to suburban marital bliss.  Don’t misunderstand me.  Life has been good.  I have been happy.  It just left me wondering – what could I have become if I applied myself to something; anything.

There has not been a moment when I have been on my own.  From the safety of my childhood home to college, from college to apartment living with roommates and then into the arms of my husband and our own home, I have never had to worry about a roof over my head.

It’s time for some worry in my life.  Worry molds you, shapes you.   As long as you keep the clay moist, you can reshape the warbles that alter the shape of your choices.  I may have started out a vase and ended up a cup.  But as long as I find my intended purpose, the vessel is irrelevant.

Fifty was a milestone birthday.  I no longer want to be the dutiful daughter or complacent co-worker.  It sounds so wrong, against everything I was raised to believe.  I know I will still be all these things, but I am anxious to finally learn to be me.

Don't Worry; Be Happy

One of the things I notice most as I age is worrying about everything. Actually not worrying as much as wondering why no one has common sense. Such as, why is the handicapped parking nearest the building, but farthest from the door? It's like map quest. There's the fastest route and the shortest route. The handicapped parking where I once worked was physically closest to the entrance of the building, but behind a curb. The person had to wheel themselves to the drive entrance, but then the ramp going into the building was back the other direction. They were almost wheeling one city block just to get in the building. It was probably, by law, within code, but come on! Another thing that troubles me is the braille at the drive-up window at the bank. Really?

Today I noticed that the live bait vending machine was out of order. Who stocks that thing? Is it heated? Will the worms survive this chill we're having? And if the machine doesn't get fixed, what happens to the bait? These are troubling thoughts.

You've realized you're older when you're concerned with what everyone is wearing. Why do kids wear shorts in the winter, but when it finally gets warm they wear stocking caps? Or you see people wearing sandals in the winter and you hope they have boots in the car in case they have car problems. And I bet that same girl wears Ugg boots during the summer.

Is worrying an aging process or genetic? Should I worry that I worry? No, it's probably we've been around the block so many times we're familiar with the view. Been there and done that. In case anyone digs out any of my pictures during the 70's like the one shown at top, I'll cool it on the fashion comments of today's youth. Using a bible metaphor, but way out of context, I'll remove the log out of my own eye before I try to remove the speck from my brother's eye. However, in the meantime, I'll be happy to wear my boots in the winter and my sandals in the summer (the white ones not until after Memorial Day, of course).