I wonder what sort of twisted version of myself you are gleaning from this blog.
Here’s what I mean: I was at Soup Day yesterday. This was when Sandy was still there, inhaling her soup before she had to dash away.
I brought zucchini bread. Since I brought it, it fell to me to cut it. So, I did, cutting off the yucky heel, and then cutting a nice big middle piece for myself. And none for Sandy or Barbetta.
And then I remembered that polite people offer everyone else the best parts first. So, with an internal roll of the eyes, but a sweet smile on my face, I passed the yummy middle piece to Sandy.
But Barbetta knew.
She said, “You cut that piece for yourself and didn’t want to give it to Sandy.”
I looked up, shocked. “How…?”
“You write a blog. We read it. Now we all know how you think.”
Is this true? Are all my basest motivations clear for all to see?
I’m not so sure. I think I could have fooled most of you. You wouldn’t have made note of the hesitation before I passed the plate to Sandy. I think it’s just the Soup Day people who can tell when I’m being selfish. That’s because Kris and I, in moments of weakness, have revealed to the other Soup Day participants the struggle that Only Children have with being selfish. You’re never cured of Only Child Syndrome. You’re always just recovering.
I’m mostly recovered from Only Child Syndrome, other than totally hogging the conversation every now and then.
While Barbetta was spot on and shocked me with her accurate assessment of my motivations, here’s an example of someone who shocked me with his completely inaccurate assessment.
A few days ago, Scott accused me of hating being alone. Yes, I know! That’s just crazy talk! Those who’ve known me for years are probably picking themselves up off the floor after reading that. Jackie: hating to be alone? Inconceivable!
Needing, craving, nay–glorying in alone time has been one of my defining characteristics for as long as I can remember.
I just don’t like being alone in the kitchen cooking boring meals, while everyone else is living it up in the other room playing with Nerf guns and watching funny videos on the iPad.
Speaking of motivations, I think Scott was rebelling against the fact that I make him help cook, and was trying reverse psychology on me. “If I tell her she hates being alone, she’ll try to prove me wrong and go off in the kitchen and do all the work by herself! Mwahaha!”
But to be fair, from Scott’s point of view, I don’t like being alone. He’s only seen me in hostess mode, when I am either entertaining the guest by not wandering away to go read a book by myself, or I’m or self-centeredly wanting to be around all the action, and insisting that the guests come entertain me. Scott’s never seen me puttering around by myself, content in my own company.
So, back to the beginning sentence: I wonder what sort of twisted version of myself you are gleaning from this blog. Are you accurate, like Barbetta? Or have I presented myself in a false way, like with Soctt?
We’ll all never know. It’s like that song Pepper. Which I’ve always liked because it’s in a key I can actually sing in.
Cinnamon and sugary
And softly spoken lies
You never know just how you look
Through other people’s eyes
Picture of the Day:
I had a chance to take a picture of Michael practicing on the drums.
I only intended to get a quick little shot, but Michael said, “Stay and have fun trying out different shots.” He suggested I try to get a picture of the sticks being blurry, but he also said he didn’t want to be in the picture.
Ok. I put down my bag and settled into take some pictures within those parameters: blurry sticks, no drummer. Got it.
But then he started actually hitting the drums. Ay yi yi! Somewhere along the line, someone decided that the drummers at church were too loud, so they build a little room around the drum set. The drummers are a little sulky about their little room and call it the Fish Bowl. Drummers gotta be free, man!
Well, when you’re in the Fish Bowl and the drummer starts drumming, it’s LOUD. The sound sort of reverberates around you and bounces off the glass walls. I haven’t heard anything that loud since I went to a Metallica concert on the Fourth of July back in 2000.
Good thing I take my earplugs with me everywhere I go.
Anyway, long story short (too late), I put in the earplugs, and fiddled around with different settings and angles and took some pictures. But I wasn’t happy with them. I know that my challenge was to take the shot without the drummer in it, but the shots were lifeless without a person. There was no “story.”
So, I got myself in a position where I would have the cymbals at the front of the picture, and the action behind them and between them.
I got Michael’s hands as a blur, and just when he crashed a cymbal and it moved, I snapped a shot of his eyes.
I’m pretty pleased with the arrangement of this picture, and think it fits the challenge. Blurry hands, and (mostly) no drummer.
And I wish I could play the drums more than ever now. It looks like fun.