My bloggy friend, Andrea, over at Will Cook for Food, challenged fellow bloggers to write a “Ten Things” post as an venue for authenticity and as a snap-shot of the “real you.” Taking on her challenge, I am! 🙂
Right now, I’m in the process of over-hauling Pie in the Sky (along with most every other activity in my life). Evidence of this can be found in my two previous posts, here and here, where I take a shoot-from-the-hip look at some low points and some high points in my relationship with my husband, Jeremiah. These posts are a first, some-what jarring step towards adding meaning and definition to Pie in the Sky. Basically, I just want to write with more discipline, just write more. But, I also want to write with more honesty, provide a broader view of my life, thoughts, humor, and happenings as a newly-wed, a nurse, a student, a mentor, a Christian. More about all that later (because I still have that measly business paper to write!).
For the moment, my list of Ten Things I inherited from my Daddy, known to his grandsons as Pops; a late celebration of my dad for Father’s Day, which I missed.
Ten Things I Inherited from my Dad
- A sneaky fondness for ice-cream, smoked oysters, pickled herring, and tortilla chips.
- A deep, deep sense of duty, the feeling that what you “should” do always comes before what you “want” to do, sometimes accurate, sometimes inaccurate.
- His acne-prone skin. Nothing a good concealer won’t fix, but I blame the vigor of my skin’s bumpy pimples on my father’s genes. Per family history, my mom’s line isn’t without need of Neutrogena wash either, but since her skin is tight and tan across perfect cheek bones while my dad’s skin is tough and uneven over a broad face, the blame seems warranted. Not denyin’ he’s a handsome stud!
- Stage fright.
- A love of water. I grew up trailing my finger tips in the ripples of a canoe on Otter Creek, listening to my dad instruct me on paddling like an “Indian princess.” Dad often talks about buying a camp on a lake, and I am at my happiest swimming through the muck of a Vermont, back-woods pond. I dream of vacationing by the ocean.
- An obsession with the Green Mountains and all the glories they hold.
- Silliness. When we still had the apple orchard going, my dad and I would drive between the orchard and the co-op carrying apple barrels in an ancient, mustard-yellow truck. We pretended the apples were Barbies, dangerously smuggled to little girls in a kingdom ruled by evil, Barbie-hating fairies. We also pretended the little caps of new growth on spruce trees were the hats of drunken gnomes and that Dutchman’s britches, a lacy, early spring flower, were the deserted pants of bedazzled trolls.
- A voracious appetite for books.
- A need for simplicity, simple explanations, simple truths, simple technologies, simple Gospel.
- A love of quiet. “The tongue may be silver, but silence is golden.”
Happy Monday, all! And, happy puttin-off-that-paper-yet-again to me! Ooooh, dear.