Thursday, August 12, 2010

I Think I May Just Throw Up Or Patience Is A Virtue For Someone Else

Timing is either perfection or anathema.  If you think there is an in between that is just ho-hum, think again.

We have been waiting on some news at the Reckless household, and it is like scraping your nails on a chalkboard or hearing teeth on a fork.  Blech.  I just got shivers down my spine thinking about the fork and teeth. Give me nails on a chalkboard any day. 

I wish I could tell you that over the years I had arrived on the whole waiting and patience thing, but I have not.  And just when that little beast called pride begins to perk it's ears up and wag its tail and make me think that I have actually progressed, something like this week comes along and reminds me how little progress I have made.

Because I'm not good at waiting.  And I don't like big surprises.  And I am out of patience.  But I don't have any answers either.  And that is, perhaps, making me a little nauseous.

When I was a child, I could not stand not knowing what I was getting for Christmas.  So, I developed a method for unwrapping my gifts and wrapping them back up.   I have mad skills for package espionage if you should ever require such services.  The only way my parents discovered my subterfuge was that I was not jumping up and down on Christmas morning when I opened my gifts.  And neither was my sister because I had opened hers up, too, and told her what she was getting.  It took them a little while to figure out what was happening, but when they did, they quit putting the gifts under the tree until the last minute.  And I foiled that, too, because I discovered the hiding place in the top of my parents' closet underneath their extra pillows.  And those weren't even wrapped yet, so it was even better as far as I was concerned.  When they discovered my discovery, they switched hiding spots until the gifts eventually landed in the garage locked in a locker.  The end of spoiled surprises.

Has nothing to do with the post except that it is taken at Christmas.  You gotta dig my dad's perm and mustache.  I'm the one thoroughly engrossed in the gingerbread men.   

When I was eighteen, a couple of my friends threw me a surprise birthday party.  It was awfully sweet, but I figured it out early and had to pretend I didn't know.  I did get a little surprise because the guy I was madly in love with spent the evening flirting with my friends instead of me (umm... if you can't be nice to the birthday girl, you need to stay home), and then, there was another surprise when another guy I liked shoved my face in my cake.  Red and green nostril shaped frosting bullets on the white carpet.  Not a good thing.     

When I was pregnant with RNR, some friends threw me a surprise shower.  Again, not that surprised.  I may have just surprised a couple of them.

I just like to know what is coming.  And right now, I don't know what is coming, and I don't like it.  I fully know I am not in control, and I am sure it will be the best plan when I find out what it is.  I'm just really not fond of this holding pattern.   Tom Petty really knew what he was talking about.

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