Pamplemousse!

When I sit down to write at night, pajama clad, slumbering babes, quasi clean house, I usually have some topic in mind. Perhaps its been on the back burner waiting for the right time. Maybe something sparked my interest on social media or another blog. It truly is magic 8 ball based decision making. I spend lots of hours at work focused on thoughtful writing. This is not that. This is quasi-grammatically correct English. With some typos tossed in for good measure. You want perfection, find another blogger.

I guess I am a blogger now? I don't know. How many posts make you a blogger? Do I get a t-shirt or a oversized coffee mug? Am I aiming for 10,000 followers? Not really, we already addressed I am more of a quality than a quantity type gal. This is more of a finding yourself , redefining yourself at 35 memoir. A little witty repartee, perhaps put me with the likes of Winston Churchill, Jerome K. Jerome, or Mark Twain. I'm just kidding, i'll probably end up more like a Herman Melville by the time my blogging career ends. Under promise, over deliver? I guess only time will tell.

Some days my job allows for me to let me creative side out. Not creative in the arts and craft sense. Creative in the thinking outside the box sense. Doing things that have never been done; a little begging for forgiveness vs. asking permission. Right now, its end of fiscal year and spreadsheets galore and numbers and logic. Things I am decent at, just boring. Tedious and boring. Just ask my husband or dear friend about my accounting class in grad school. That will be entertaining story to save for the future. Today these spreadsheets got the best of me. Panic inducing, needed to walk away from my office, kind of Monday. I went to the library listened to music and got other long over due projects started. I want these spreadsheets done and off my desk. Excel and I have a love hate. There is no witty repartee with excel. Only mild cursing and occasional threats of violence. And error messages when your formula is smarter than you. Screw you excel. This is why I like words. Words can bring you solace, envelop you up like a nice warm blanket, or shove you down so hard you don't know if you'll ever get up. Words have feel it deep down in your soul meaning.

My favorite word is, pamplemousse, french for grapefruit. I know, odd. Again, we've established that. Its fun to say, sounds nothing like its English counter part. Pamplemousse, give it a try. Word of the day. I'm sure everyone reading this has participated in some kind of ice breaker that asks for you to describe yourself etc in a certain amount of words. Most people go generic, son, brother, daughter, runner, chocoholic. Surface descriptions that don't draw attention and make the moderator move on to the next victim. Freshman year of undergrad my sociology professor made us write down 25 words that described us. A list that would never be shared or read aloud. 25 words, seemed simple enough. However, after you get through the surface adjectives, then what? Sister, daughter, wife, mother, friend, blonde, blue eyes, tall-ish, ....... I guess we need start adding some layers. This was much easier freshman year of college. I was 18 and full of myself. I'm certain my list had no real depth. Picture it, undergrad 2003, leggings, ugg boots, and sorority letters. I'm guessing you can now visualize my list.

If I were to dedicate a chapter to my list now at age 35, the top 10 generic words ring true. Still tall. Still blonde. Daughter. Sister. Good Looking...just kidding. However, I did get hit on walking to my car tonight. So, maybe i'll keep good looking.

If you had to sit down tonight and write your list of 25 words, what would be on it. How would your list compare to a list your significant other wrote about you or your children or colleagues. Partner, parent, coworker - three vastly different roles that many of us fill. Were the same person; does our list differ between roles? Does the constant varying of our persona's cause us more aggravation than its worth? No one is the same at work as they are at home. I engage with my children differently than my spouse.

Do we all need to take pause? Should my list of words make the most sense to my little's? The youngest voice with the least jaded perspective.

At some point I will sit down and rewrite that list. However, in the words of Mark Twain, Never put off ‘til tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.