Lion

Hey, so, I guess I'm back from my blogging hiatus. I'll pretend that you missed me, if you pretend that I spent the two weeks 'being ultra-productive and getting super relaxed.' Oh, and also pretend that I did not lose my blogging break to-do list (I will surely drown soon in a lake of dorkiness of my own creation) after the second or third day. We'll also ALL pretend that there are not around 300 unread posts in my reader, and that I have been diligently commenting on all of them.

But! Hey! I did, um...work a lot, at work. Last week was something around 48-50 hours of work, which is a lot to me, because that cuts into the time I spend herding pets. Lots of work stuff. And my hands aren't in quite as much pain, since I avoided many computery activities. AND I finished a stupid short book I've been trying to finish for months. And I turned 27, which is irritating to me because I like even numbers. And 27 is the product of two odd numbers that I absolutely despise. (Again=dork.) I started a paper journal. Also, we rearranged a ton of furniture, and it basically came down to this: every single item in the house that I arranged so carefully needed to be put where he had suggested back in August, in the FIRST place, in order for our house not to feel so horribly tiny. So now it feels bigger! And I was wrong!

So, I'm back, and this is the first thing on my "list of things to share that I thought of while on my blogging break." Don't worry--the list also includes things like "the pets" and "things the pets did" and "oh, man, have I mentioned the PETS lately?" Now I'll go ahead and use quotation marks to death: I'm not much of one for "sharing quotes" or "paying attention to life coaches in magazines" or "any of that other sissy trash, lame!" But I get Real Simple, (which I like because it taught me that you can use foil instead of a brillo pad) and although I mentally rolled my eyes at most of the article (as I tend to do at ALL of that sissy trash!), this jumped out at me. Just sort of peeled itself off the page, slapped me in the face, and loudly reminded me of something that I frequently need to be reminded of:

"Remember — people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about you. They spend most of their time thinking about themselves. You can change your hair, your voice, your whole style, or your whole act, and they might pause for a moment and say, “Hmm” or “Wait a second — is that good old what’s-her-face? She seems different” or simply “Wow.” That’s about it."

I liked it, because I forget that people are so busy worrying about what others think about THEM, that they devote very little time thinking about you. So it doesn't matter! Isn't that good? Surely there's a wadded up ball of truth in that. And so it is okay that I wore mismatched socks yesterday. Etcetera.

Another glorious return,
black sheeped