I'm Working So I Won't Have to Try So Hard

So, basically, I had a bad day today. I think I woke up kind of out of sorts and work made it worse. By the time I got home, I was just feeling cranky and needy and all sorry for myself. I called my friend K. to whine and even though she had just slammed her finger in the screen door, she was awesome as usual. She wanted to know if I'd feel better if I came over and got my birthday present. Why, yes. I believe I would. Her dogs were really happy to see me and we had a good talk. (K. and I, not me and the dogs) Then Mr. Dateman called and I went over there for a while, and unfortunately for him, I brought my weirdness with me. Sorry Mr. Dateman.

Tonight I figured it would be safer to go back in time. I haven't posted old photos in quite a while, so I thought I'd bring some out. In the top one, my mom is by some big river somewhere. At first glance, I thought she was fishing, and I was about to be really surprised. I couldn't imagine my mom being all that into fishing. That's more my thing.

In a lot of ways, my mom and I were very similar. I got a lot of my traits, both good and bad from her. I inherited her sense of direction...Or lack thereof, I got her spazziness, and her music appreciation. I wish I had her comedic talent. She was one of the funniest people I've ever met and she could mimic almost anyone's voice. The big difference between us, is that she was super girly and I am super not. Don't get me wrong, I wear dresses and skirts and make-up and stuff. I just don't get a lot of womens' fascination with shoes and accessories and pedicures and manicures and why people pay others money to cut their hair, when you can all just do it yourself. When I was trying to get my shit together a few years ago, (thank god I gave up on that pursuit) I read this book on motherless daughters. One of the things it said, was that sometimes when girls lose their mothers before puberty, they don't get the girlie education and so I was glad to have a reason. I think the other part for me, was that when I was a kid, I hung out with my brother and our boy neighbors a lot. I spent tons of time catching lizards and playing army and building forts. So, anyway. Those are my excuses and I'm sticking to them.

My friend K. gave me the gift of a haircut by a real, live person who cuts hair. (what do you call them? Stylists?) She claims I'll love the woman because she's fun and loud like us. And she's from Sigourney, so we might have similar accents. This will be my first foray into formalized girliness in several years. I'll have to let you know how it goes. What if it makes me turn and I start drooling over handbags and wearing tons of perfume and actually trying to walk in shoes that hurt my feet? I guess it wouldn't bother me that much if I could wear them with one of my mom's cool old dresses from the sixties.