Category Archives: awkward

truth be told

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The conversation starts this way, “Have I done something to upset you or piss you off, because you hardly ever say hello and talk to me? What’s going on?”

So, do I tell her the truth? I mean, does she really want to hear what’s on my mind? It’s not too pretty. Which is why I have withdrawn a little…okay, a lot.

My attempt to protect others from the cra-cra that sometimes settles inside of me is, as usual, misconstrued as that I am mad at someone…think I’m better than someone….just like Jr. High. Except for the fact that no one really thought that of me back when I was in Jr. High…or High School. Living in a small town and a mom who liked to manically over share every weekend at the local beer garden pretty much made my withdrawal seem okay…and probably added to the sympathy for those poor kids of hers.

Hmmm…wondering here if I am more like Mommy Dearest than I want to admit that I am. No, not the bipolar disorder…the over sharing…then again I don’t have a local beer garden to do that in. There just isn’t such a thing here in my own small town. Yeah, there’s bars but not like back home…where you can actually bring a baby, or the kids into the bar, er, beer garden/tavern…to eat dinner while enjoying second-hand smoke. and awkward conversations with your parents tipsy friends.

My kids are so deprived and sheltered.

Lucky!

Oh wait, I’m off topic aren’t I?

Back to Jr. High…as in this is so like Jr. High girl drama.

Ugh!

When I was in college someone confronted me like this accusing me of thinking I was better than her and everyone else in our clinical group. Bewildered, I tried to explain that all I was doing was just keeping my head down while trying to get through the nursing program. My anxieties and demons had SO MUCH FUN with me back then convincing me that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, strong enough. I was double wrapped in that cocoon then!

No, I’m not mad at her. She hasn’t done anything to me to make me mad at her. That is what I tell her while I roll my eyes inside my mind. It is indeed true. She hasn’t done anything…to me. I just need to be curled up in my little cocoon for just a little while. It’s why I hang on to it like I do…you know, for those times when my own anxieties and demons show up…and to protect myself from the crazy shit the drama queens who can’t move past Jr. High often try to stir up.

confirmed: I still haz what’s up

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According to the Facebook comment on my daughter’s wall from an old friend of mine I do still have “what’s up”

What’s up with that you wonder?

The following conversation took place at a gas station near the Big Top.

Biker Dude: (giving me a wink and a smile) Hey there. What’s up?

Me: (feeling a little awkward but hey, the world needs more kindness so I smile back) Doing just fine. How are you today?

Biker Dude: Heading into work

Me: Well at least it is a great day to ride.

Biker Dude: It sure is. I couldn’t ask for more, could I?

Me: No I guess not. (awkward feeling is returning as he keeps smiling at me)

Biker Dude: So what is NICURN? (he points at my license plate)

Me: A NICU RN?

Biker Dude: What’s that?

Me: A nurse who works in an intensive care unit.

Biker Dude: (still smiling) That’s all right. Is that what you do?

Me: Yes sir.

Why is this quick stop to pump gas taking so long I wonder? Done! At last!

Me: Well, you have a great day…

Biker Dude: You too. Hey, maybe I’ll get lucky and see you in the ER sometime.

Me: Oh goodness! I hope not!

Biker Dude: (laughs) Well you know what they say there are only two kinds of bikers: the ones who fall down and the ones who have fallen down.

Me: (smiling and waving as I get in the car)

Holly: Go Mom!

Me: Oh my gawd! That was so awkward.

Of course Holly puts up on Facebook that I just got hit on. And then that is when my old friend warns that my darling husband needs to watch out because I still have what’s up. What is that?

Whatever it is, it is still all kinds of awkward to me. Sorry all you Sons of Anarchy fans, including my darling husband, I’m just not into biker dudes…especially biker dudes that flirt with me while my kid and grandkid are in the car. All around Hugh Jackman types or Hugh Jackman himself though…

Hmmm….

In all seriousness, it is nice to be occasionally be noticed in that flirty kind of way but not when my kids are around. I’m not that kind of MILF.

nerdy that way

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Go ahead and judge me. I don’t care. I spent my Friday evening and Saturday re-reading this book before I see the end of it all in the theater.

So what? I’m nerdy that way. So is my darling husband who is now re-reading it since I (finally) handed it over.

He’s kind of nerdy too.

Which probably explains why we get along so well since we are both such awkward nerds sometimes.

And yet I really, really want to read this book like soon.

Yes, I confess those were some of the worst years of my life…as they were for pretty much everyone else. I have this theory. Pick up any middle school/junior high school yearbook. Even the most gorgeous, perfect people were completely awkward, dare I say, nerdy then. To which then follows the potential for the middle school years being the worst years of one’s life. It is being sold as a “children’s book” but I still really want to read it.

Oh look! There is a Kindle version.

Yeah, I’m nerdy that way.

awkward

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We’re all still here!

I guess I should be ashamed for poking fun, but I’m not. It’s not that I don’t believe. I do. But my take on that which is written in the Good Book is this:

When the Jews read the writings of the prophets about the coming Messiah they expected something completely different from the Messiah that came. Jesus was nothing like their interpretations of what the prophets wrote. So perhaps the End of Days will be nothing like Hal Lindsay’s writings or Harold Camping’s or the ilk like them.

Perhaps.

again with my amazing math skills or what year is it really?

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My Grandma was 36 years old when I was born. At least I was told that she was 36 when I was born. I am going to be 49 years old very, very soon. So it would follow that it would not be that difficult of a task for me to figure out how old she was the day she died AND what year she was born.

Right?

But we all, myself included, forget just how awesomely stellar my math skills are not.

Remember my very first half marathon that I ran last year? The one where at mile 9 I find myself so excited because I only have 3.1 more miles to run. I was so excited…so, so very excited. Then I came upon that mile 10 marker and I realized that NOW I have 3.1 more miles to run.

Yeah, those mad math skills of mine are amazing! My co-workers who read my blog and ask me to double check their meds might now be re-thinking that. I have to stop now and reassure them that THIS is why I always use a calculator…always and why I depend on them to check my meds too.

But back to the year my grandmother was born…

When I first eulogized her here I posted that she was born in 1925 because 36 plus 49 is 85. Then I read her obituary in two different newspapers and see that actually she was born in 1924. I rush to immediately edit my gross error lest family see it and chide me. I also actually fret just a little because Grandma was a persnickety one and she might not be pleased that I couldn’t get her birth date right.I imagine her pursing her lips and telling me how disappointed she is with me.

She might.

She would.

Then at the funeral, I am handed the little memorial card with her name and the Lord’s Prayer printed upon it and I see…

1926?!

Does anyone know what year it really is?

I know.

Does anyone really care?

Actually, I imagine my Grandma would. Perhaps she really wasn’t 36 when I was born. Or perhaps I now know for sure that yes, I was born into this family…this family with stellar skills with all things that are numbers. We have awesome DNA…it’s not Adonis DNA, but oh well.

For the record, yes I am going to be 49 next week. I was born in 1962. I have the birth certificate and everything all legit to prove it too.