I am an observant person. It’s not so much of an inherent skill as much as a learned behavior. As in I would have been a groovy Boy Scout or Zombie hunter. Too bad I’m not a boy and have an aversion to the undead and making them more dead. The unfortunate thing is that I observe the kind of crap that is never going to do me any good. If I were to overhear somebody recite their debit card PIN, there is no way that kind of information is going to make any progress getting from my short term to long term memory. But if you have your bra strap twisted under your sweater set, and I’m all over that nugget of information.
There are many, many things that I just never fully appreciated as a child. Coffee, chocolate and sexy undies would all make the rather long list of things flying below my childhood radar. No, I wasn’t running around commando as a wee one. (Well, I actually did a few times, but that’s for another post.) After all, it was the 1970s. We were all sporting practical cotton briefs in neutral colors versus anything remotely attractive — unless you find the days of the week remarkably cute. But the aging process is all about finding new perspective. And things in your closets and cupboards you never thought you would back when you thought 35 was “over the hill” and stretch marks would never happen to you.
As a kid, my mom would always get us a chocolate Easter bunny for our baskets. And, as a kid, I would eat the ears off my bunny and then decide I would save it for later. (I apparently have hoarder tendencies.) This went on for years. YEARS people. To the extent that one fine day during my adolescence my mom agreed to keep me company while I reorganized my closet. We stood there in front of a long line of long and short sleeves mixed together with wild abandonment and suddenly I hear something a bit like this:
Yesterday my husband and I fenagled a date afternoon and headed off to see Inception (um, wow!) which is the first time I’ve seen a movie in a theater since New Year’s. Yes, I can be a sad panda at times. After the movie, we decided to take the opportunity to go really hog-wild and stopped at a local watering hole for a drinkie and some cajun sustenance. Afterwards as we ambled back to the car, we happened to notice a larger than usual assortment of military vehicles parked on our Main Street. Odd, very odd. (The military trucks, not our ambling or owning a car.)
Being the whiz-bangs we are, we decided to investigate the hulabaloo and guess who found themselves standing on the edge of a movie set? Yep, little ole me and the hubster too.