One day I realized that my blog posts might actually be more about me and my personality (um how do I say this nicely) ”quirks.” So a friend offered to pen an autobiography. We’ll call her Debbie because she nailed it like Dallas. I can’t believe how well she knows me or maybe I am just that obviously weird.
I started this blog because I notice things like how Holden was observant to the world around him. I find humor and wonder in the goings on of every day. I love people and their nuisances. However, I’m also self-aware enough to know that my “observations” could also be a by-product of my OCD. I think I’m a bit OCD but not the kind where people say they have OCD instead of just calling themselves what others call them; anal. Is asking for an airline blanket to be able to put your backpack and shoeless feet on anal or OCD? Sure, some people make their hotel bed (only on an upper level floor – not a bed in a ground level room with exterior doors and definitely not in a room with adjoining doors) before the cleaning crew visits but do they also clean the shower, wipe down the toilet, recreate the first tissue box tissue pretty poof and then check all that three times before leaving the room?
So here are a couple of details about little ‘ole me. Yep, I’m kinda little. Sometimes I need help hefting my suitcase into the overhead bin. I’m strong but, well, not tall. And I’m not quite that ‘ole yet.
I was raised in the south, close knit family and all which accompanies that. I think nowadays it’s called dysfunctional. My people owned a meat and three in Bodunk, North Carolina. My waistline didn’t like it but the primary recipe ingredient growing up was Crisco, we are talking white gravy-white biscuit-deep fat fried southern. I grew up with what I like to call three brothers but technically only one pain in the neck of a brother and two similar cousins, so I was a bit of a tomboy. “Hey watch this! Ouch!” was my motto growing up. I still got that attitude. By the way when you lose at anything in my family you will get heckled by goat sounds coming from the mouths of all of them so I’m now a tad bit competitive.
I used to be kinda big, um lb number started with a “2” at some point, but I’m not anymore. That experience has shaped me (smaller dresses means more of them, neatly, in my suitcase next to my travel steamer) and gave me insight into the adage, “everybody’s going through something.” So I like to think it also helped me to develop, at least my old weight’s worth, in empathy awareness.
I’ve been lucky to have a bunch of life experiences from surfing on the coast while getting a couple of college degrees to being a ski bum in CO. That has helped me become a gal who likes steak tartare and Russian River Valley chards (I do like the wines) as much as chicken wings. But I don’t eat chicken wings so much anymore because we have some chickens in our backyard at our house, you know the kinda house with the fence in the front yard? I love my chickens but I also love that we are five minutes from a metropolitan area where I can play tennis in a competitive league and whoop some stay at home mom ass. My friends give me a bit of grief every occasionally. I buy cute tennis outfits and then get on the court and grunt when I serve. But, in my defense, it takes a lot of might for a short gal to get the ball over that net. Some of that grief from my friends also comes from belting out Patsy Cline tunes when I get a little tipsy. “Tipsy” is what us Southern gals call drunk.
My favorite TV show is Jeopardy. I kinda got a thing for Alex Trebeck, c’mon who doesn’t like an ageless, witty, sometime mustachioed Canadian? I love being able to answer all those questions in the comfort of my own home where people don’t think I’m showing off by being a smarty pants, I just like the game of it all.
While I used to be all about hemmed jean shorts, some kind of athletic sandal with unnecessary amounts of Velcro and shaved bangs (thank Heavens I was funny otherwise I would have had zero friends) I’m now as comfortable in an Ann Taylor Loft suit in a boardroom as I am getting spider bites planting peonies in my yard. One day, I’ll write about the time my finger swelled up so big from a spider bite I had to visit an urgent care directly after getting off the plane and the 67 year old urgent care doctor insisted on giving me a ride in his Subaru to my hotel all the while explaining to me the virtues of dream catchers and zodiac signs.
My work takes me all over the country where I give presentations to a bunch of guys in suits in boardrooms but I also have audiences of people with their “feet on the street.” My favorite parts of my job are working with my team and helping to try to craft creative, audience specific, presentations and messaging.
I travel so much I’m referred to as “Norm” in the Sky Club, Baggage Claim Carousel B Restaurant, every Marriott lobby bar,…….you get the point. My life experiences and my desire to escape a little bit, I don’t have the attention span to read novels, compels to me write this blog.
And remember, ALWAYS CLEAN YOUR TRAY TABLES.
Backpack on a blanket- come on!