Day 17: A favorite photo of yourself and why

I took this photo of myself about ten years ago (holy crap, where does the time go?) to show off a new haircut for my hubby (before he was my hubby) who was about 6600 miles away for 45 days or so, thanks to work. 

I like this photo because a) it was a good hair day, b) I have only one chin, and c) I look as happy on the outside as I usually feel on the inside. I think this is the first photo in my life that actually captured what I wish the world would see whenever it looks at me–someone who is happy, confident, relaxed, friendly, and approachable. However, because I’m generally kind of introspective and frequently lost in thought, I know my facial expression is often more serious than I intend it to be–which I fear translates to me looking like I don’t want to be bothered. Since capturing this unguarded selfie and realizing what I could project, I try to be more conscious of what I do project in any given moment.  

Just me, brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.

Photo by AnnaMaria Donnoli on Wikimedia Commons

Day 16: Something difficult about your “lot in life” and how you’re working to overcome it

Ugh. I’ve been thinking about this particular prompt since I first previewed the Story of My Life Challenge back in May, and in three months, I still don’t have an answer I can type with a clear conscience.

It’s not that my life has been a perfect cakewalk since I emerged from the womb. There’ve been trials and tribulations in the past four decades…I moved (changed schools, left friends) often as a child…I live with two chronic auto-immune diseases…my dad died way too soon…my relationship with my brother is nonexistent and I don’t know why. But I cannot whine and moan “poor me” about any of these things.

I wouldn’t go so far as to use the cliché that they are actually blessings in disguise, but they do all put into perspective the true richness of my life. Moving taught me to adapt to and appreciate new environments, new situations, new people, new customs. Having somewhat imperfect health has made thankful for modern medicine, has made me value all the body parts that work as they should, and has spurred me to be more proactive in maintaining a healthy lifestyle than I might have been otherwise. Losing my dad…well, it’s harder to pin down any bright side to that, but I am so very grateful to still have my mom. Losing Dad painfully illustrated that we’re not guaranteed any tomorrows—I can’t take for granted any of the time I have with my loved ones. The loss of the bond my brother and I once had hurts, but my hubby came with four siblings who have helped to fill that gap by welcoming me warmly into their family.

I honestly can’t complain about my lot in life. My life has been no harder than anyone else’s, and is very likely richer than many. If I choose to look at less-than-ideal circumstances and events in my life as burdens, I risk becoming a bitter, ungrateful old hag. I much prefer to keep my sunny side up, to take the good and the bad with equal grace, and to keep the whining to a minimum.

Nothing to complain about, brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.

Photo from wallzoa.com

Day 14: Ten things that make you really happy

• scratching something off my to-do list
• when my hubby walks in the door at the end of the day
• a cat on my lap
• beach combing
• Oreos
• performing/witnessing/reading about random acts of kindness
• rainy Sunday afternoon naps
• time spent with family and friends
• getting a real letter in my mailbox
• making someone smile

Grins and giggles, brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.

Photo from The Telegraph

Day 13: Issue a public apology. This can be as funny or as serious or as creative as you want it to be.

Dear Hubby,

I am sorry for my inability to sleep without covers. Not only do I love the comfortable snugness of being cocooned, but I feel vulnerable and exposed if I’m not tucked in. I cannot sleep when I feel insecure.

When you combine my compulsion to burrow under all the covers every time I crawl in bed—in our case, a sheet, a blanket, and a comforter—with the fact that your body is a furnace, it is easy to get overheated. I cannot sleep when I’m hot.

As a result, the ideal bedroom temperature for a peaceful night’s slumber is an admittedly chilly 63ºF.

I am sorry this temperature makes you feel like a member of the Polar Bear Club taking the plunge when you crawl into bed each night.

I am sorry this temperature negatively impacts your bladder and that the resulting treks to the ensuite bathroom are comparable to making frosty midnight runs to the outhouse in the middle January.

I am sorry this temperature makes getting out of bed when the alarm shrills each morning, especially when it’s dark and rainy outside, an exercise in sheer determination.

I am even sorrier that hot flashes aren’t too far in my future, and that when they arrive, you will be longing for the days when the bedroom was as warm as 63º.

Thanks for putting up with my quirky internal thermostat, and just for the record, I think you would look really hot in a fleece onsie.

I love you,
Da Wifey

My humble apologies, brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.

Day 12: What do you miss? (a person, a thing, a place, a time of your life…)

I miss my dad.

Heartache, brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.

Photo copyright Shropshire Star

Day 11: Sell yourself in 10 words or less

For hire: patient, open-minded, inquisitive, trainable, industrious, empathetic, low-maintenance pragmatist.

Classified ad brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.

Photo by Mark Wanzel, The Barrie Examiner

Day 10: Most embarrassing moment(s). Spill.

Somehow, despite being frequently distracted, often clumsy, and occasionally slow-witted or loose-tongued, I have rarely found myself in a mortifyingly embarrassing situation. Oh sure, there are occasional gaffes, where I’d like to turn back the clock and have a do-over, but I try to be philosophical and count those instances as valuable lessons.

I do have a habit of falling in public places, which tends to be embarrassing. I’ve fallen up stairs in train stations, down mountains, over uneven bricks in sidewalks. But the most embarrassing fall I ever took was under a bus.

In high school, I rarely wore skirts (all the other kids were constantly in jeans) but for some reason on the snowiest day of the year, that’s what I pulled out of the closet. They don’t cancel school for snow in New Hampshire, so after a full day of watching the white stuff pile up outside the classroom windows, it was finally time to go home. My best friend and I stuffed our bookbags, retrieved our coats from our lockers, and headed out into the fluffy white world.

The buses were pulled into their usual spots, but their doors faced a thigh-high ridge of snow piled up by the plows that had come down the street a couple hours earlier. My friend stepped carefully in boot-tracks left by the first kids who’d boarded bus and successfully climbed aboard the yellow carriage. I crested the top of the pile with no problem, but hampered by the width of my pencil skirt, I couldn’t leap as she had onto the steps of the bus. My slick-bottomed flats were not meant for navigating down the backside of a sloping pile of ice-crusted snow, and with nothing and no one to grab for support, I quickly lost my footing. Sprawling helplessly on my back, momentum carried me three-fourths of the way under the bus.

Thankfully, as is often the case in traumatic events, the details are fuzzy after that, because I cannot imagine the picture I made trying to scrabble back out from under the bus.

The next thing I remember is sinking red-faced into the seat beside my friend, trying to brush melting road-grime slush off my coat, my skirt, and my bookbag as she asked what had taken me so long. My answer reduced her to a fit of giggles, which hurt my bruised ego more than the fall.

Lesson learned though, because I’ve never fallen under a bus since. Fashion must take a back seat to the weather.

Red face, brought to you by Jenni’s blog-every-day challenge at Story of My Life.