Me when I was five or six. (A normal play day, not Halloween.) photo-shopped onto a picture of my Indian when I first bought it, and captioned, "Cowgirl gets her Indian"
I guess I started to write a new post last night and only got an "m" typed when I hit post by accident, but didn't realize it, so there you have it. Slip actually made a very funny comment considering!
Whenever I'm wondering what to post about I can't think of anything. Nothing, yet I know that I could literally write a post about anything, and make it fun. Why is it so hard when I sit down to do it. Let's explore my anxiety about writing...nah, that sounds like a snorefest! What a monumentally stupid idea. Instead I'll tell you an entertaining little story about myself as a child, that may have altered my sense of self, or not.
When I was young, probably...five, I liked to play with things like 'hot wheels' and tonka trucks and GI Joe, and cap-guns, and stuff you find outside, like bugs, and rocks. Yes, I actually sought bugs out! I would go behind the garden in the corner of the back yard, where there were piles of wet leaves laying around, and carefully pull them apart looking for bugs, and I found 'em. You could also find them under rocks etc. I found praying mantises, centipedes and walking sticks, and all kinds of cool things, then I would watch them, but they never seemed to do enough to hold my attention for long.
I also loved rocks, we had a lot of rocks in our yard, and I would find the interesting ones and take them to my boulder sticking out of the ground a little. I would place the new rock on the boulder and then with a bigger "smashing rock", I would smash it! I called this activity "smashing rocks" and I would announce it like I was going to work. "Okay, I'll be out back smashing rocks."
I liked to see what was inside them. We had a lot of quartz around and I liked those a lot.
One evening, my parents had some friends over to play cards, as they did once or twice a week. It was shortly after Christmas, so I began to run into the kitchen where they were all seated to show the Terva's my presents. They would oooh and ahhh, and I would go get the next thing. After doing this for a while, I grabbed a red purse, my mother had retired and given to me. When I showed it to them, they asked, "Did you get that for Christmas?"
"No, but I like it" I answered. Gales of laughter rang out from everyone. I didn't understand what was so funny about that! I went back to my room in a huff, and decided not to show them anything else. Serves them right!
How did this affect me? For years I refused to carry a purse.
I do carry one now, and it's red, but it's canvas and it's made by Vitorinox, and has lots of pockets, and I call it my "man-bag". Okay, maybe it didn't affect me at all, but it was fun to tell.