Gold in the morning sun

14 09 2007

     I went out to lunch with two lovely ladies this week.  It was a nice atmosphere- they kept trying to grate stuff on my food and the waiter did that little wrist thing when presenting the plates.  Not quite as nice as the place where I almost socked the waiter because he spread my napkin in my lap for me, but almost.  (Why is it considered high hat to have your napkin spread for you?  Are rich people too worn out by their money to unfold their own napkin?  Suprised they don’t have someone assigned to cut their meat for them, which involves actual work.  They would never do that in certain red-neck establishments, as waiter might draw back a bloody stump instead of a hand.)
       During lunch I remembered something about myself.  I forget when I haven’t been with people in a while, because they tell me that they’re amused by my writing.  I begin to think that I personally am amusing!  Since I have always had a secret longing to be a stand-up comedienne, this pleases me, and I get overconfident.  But at lunch as I tried bravely to swim with a conversation about local music, fashion, current TV shows, eccentric office personalities and such, I realized the dire truth once again:
       I am really a horribly boring person.
       Why is it, I ask you, that the same meandering, complaining, vaguely snide stuff that people enjoy when I write makes their eyes glaze in person?  To my horror, at one point, I found that I was delivering a lecture on neurotransmitters and how they affect our REM sleep.  Realized I sounded just like my six-year-old son, who once delivered a lecture on hormones and the placental barrier to a standing room only crowd in the ladies’ restroom.  (I was helpless to prevent him as I was suffering acutely from morning sickness in the background- exhibit A for the lecture, I guess.)
      Another question: why is my hair and clothes always wrong?  Dressed up for the luncheon thinking that I would look out of place in my customary worn-out jeans and t-shirt.  Realized immediately upon entering the car that t-shirt was appropriate attire.  Went to all the trouble to put on jewlery, wore pearl earrings when should have worn hoops, that sort of thing.  I have five bijillion pictures of me with groups of friends in high school and college.  You can always tell who I am, because I’m the one in the white suit when everyone else is wearing flowered dresses, or the one with short hair when everyone else has shoulder-length curly hair.  Is there some internet site that tells people how to dress for different occasions that I simply haven’t found yet? 
       I hear that being out of step is it’s own fashion statment.  Perhaps I should just make myself a couple of red-velvet skirts to go with my black t-shirts and GO for it.  Somehow it’s worse to be unfashionable in a quiet way.  You end up looking like you shopped the grandma section of Wal-Mart (which, in truth, I did).  Wheras if you wear something really flamboyantly odd-looking people assume that’s the kind of stuff they’re wearing around Picadilly this year, or something. 
        Of course, things were quite different at the meeting of homeschoolers I attended the night before.  Had very little trouble joining a conversation about the best way to keep up with the laundry for a family of six.  Had many amusing things to say about the perils of breast-feeding the fourth child.  Told my anecdote about co-sleeping with my toddler when he had the stomach flu and was the hit of the room. 
       Perhaps at lunch at Romanelli’s I was simply out of my genre.   I’m always much more comfortable wearing jeans and sitting on a picnic table eating barbeque with my fingers.  I like the sort of occasion where the small children and the dogs all crawl under the table and fall asleep on each other while the men talk about football and the women clear the table and gossip until they’re laughing so hard you can hardly hear the TV.
       It’s just the plain truth that I am not a classy person.  I enjoy talking to people who don’t have all their teeth and natter on forever about something that happened in 1964.  I like listening to the female version of war stories where all the women in the room interrupt each other telling all the intimate phisiological details about their worst birth experience.  I don’t have a clue what a podcast is, and I haven’t the faintest idea what they’re showing on network TV these days.  If I drank a cocktail I would probably fall asleep or throw up.  I have never “text”ed anything, (What is the past tense of that verb, anyway?) and I don’t know what is the proper kind of wedding present to buy.  My phone doesn’t take pictures and lives it’s life hooked to the wall beside my computer. 
         In some ways I feel like I’ve actively fought against being “cool.”  I guess I’ve always known I couldn’t compete.  I never had the money for the clothes or the toys other kids had.  I was never allowed to watch the TV shows, videos, or games they did.   I don’t know the right stores to shop in, and couldn’t afford them anyway. 
        Paul said that the secret to being content was to be happy with what you could have.  I know what I can have.  I can have made from scratch gingersnaps, wet sticky baby kisses, long evening walks with my husband, fresh tomatoes in season, K-Love on the radio, badminton in the backyard, handfulls of dandelions, long hot baths, books from the library, dresses from Goodwill, homemade afghans, bread rising on my counter and holding hands with my family around the dinner table every night in prayer.
       One of my favorite musicians, a country singer named Don Williams sings a song I love.  The refrain goes like this:

        “I’m just a country boy,
         Money have I none.
         But I’ve got silver in the stars,
         gold in the morning sun…
         gold in the morning sun.”

Advertisements

Actions

Information

2 responses

19 09 2007
carolyn mejia

So, does this mean you’re not going to lunch with us anymore??!!???!! I have birthing stories too! I might even have a picture on my phone I can share… want me to blog about it??? (and, I do have a fake tooth, you know.)

You are so NOT a horribly boring person. In fact, you are probably one of the most interesting people I know – you are refreshing to me. And, you keep me guessing a little. I think I like that the most about you. Come to my office and let me lecture you on bandwidth, web 2.0, equalization and compression and php… then we can have a proper discussion about who is more boring. I enjoyed our lunch – and, I enjoy you, my friend. Thanks for the girl time – I don’t do that enough… that’s why I’m such a geek.

11 12 2009
black pearl earrings

such and enjoyable post to read

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: