Why, at times, does my husband remind me of my father? Creepy as that is, it might not be him but me. My reaction to getting directed on things that I am perfectly competent at and might have actually taught him a thing or two about is, you could say, a bit strong. I married the oldest child you see and he had a lot of responsibility growing up looking after his siblings. So naturally, he is a bit bossy. But still, for crying out loud, I don’t need just in time lessons on how to drive while driving or load up the wood stove. I grew up with a two wood stoves in a house solely heated by wood. He grew up in a centrally gas heated row house in Dublin. Who knows more about wood and wood stoves? That would be me. He did not even know what kindling was until I told him or how to start a fire until I taught him. I yi yi. But still, another girl might think it’s cute. Another woman might not mind being told how to do every day things by men. Maybe it's because of #11 in the about me post.But why me? Is this normal to get so much direction? Or for some reason do I look entirely incompetent? Do I somehow attract question and a need in men to “help” my sorry ass? I would really like to know. Or are they just all this way – ever helpful and know all and hovering? But of course not so much when it comes to taking out the garbage or lifting the heavy stuff. Sigh.
Ah, well, we have been married almost a year now and I still think he is great. And I know I get most annoyed at him when I am so tired I think my face is going to fall off. So you tell me. In the mean time, I will go on proving my competence and suffering suggestion on every day things. Maybe I will even learn a thing or two.
This is the stuff I could not fit into the "about me" bit in the profile. Probably way more than you want to know - but this is my blog so read it or no. But there it is.
Important things you should know about me.- I am a 30 something New Englander turned Los Angeles transplant, mother of one, wife of an Irish guy, artist turned organization psychologist. I live in the burbs which are geographically close to the best children’s medicine in the world though sadly plagued with a long forgotten hideous thing called winter and an astounding and tedious amount of white bread snobbery and haughty pretension.
- For the record, I miss diverse, open, anything goes, 76 degrees and sunny every day, fresh fruit and veg everywhere, beach walking, night clubbing, insane freeway driving, smiling, raw food eating, moveable feasting, we will coo over your baby even with all the tubes sticking out of her Los Angeles. But alas, we are here for good purpose and no good deeds goes unpunished. Such is life and more that you can read about here at Ryn Tales. Also known as the black hole of the web, where posts go to die and a writer can communicate complex life events completely in fragments to no one. Ms. Russo, eat your heart out.
- I am relatively sure I was switched at birth, which would explain why in my mind as a toddler I referred to my nuclear family as "those people" and never felt myself really “one of them”. In psychology this is called feeling marginalized. And, just to be clear, I love them anyway with all the diabolical preconditioned DNA magic that god gave me. Damn her!
- As it turns out being marginalized is a great background for being an organizational psychologist, which is how I prefer to make a living, helping other people not be so marginalized and more effective at work.
- I am married and live with my wonderful husband Dave (Don’t gag. He really is great though he snores and is really stubborn and tries to wear his tee shirts twice when he is really a once wear man) and my beautiful elfin daughter Ellie.
- I write a lot of bad poetry which I may share on this site.
- I write a lot of bad pros which I have been sharing.
- My first love is art as in oil painting. I did it for awhile as a profession but could not stomach dealing with 50 something menapausal gallery owners who treated me like dirt or the customers who are more concerned with my painting matching their beige leather sectional than the quality of my art and lastly, the people who would come to my shows and say, "wow, those trees are eerie" or, "Is she into devil worship?" (No! Why is painting trees about the devil?), and other equally stupid comments.
- I have a painting studio waiting to be used. I will keep you posted.
- I started my blog to communicate with and inform other parents of my experiences as a mom of a child with cerebral palsy.
- I use my blog for the purpose above but also to vent and muse about life.
- I am ABD, which is different from ADD or AHDH, but not really. The point is that I actually finished my dissertation, but my ratbastard chauvenist pig of a frustrated barely published lame ass professor, D.M., intentionally sabotaged me during my final defense and then I had Ellie and then we were in the NICU for 133 days and dealing with a child being near death for the first 2 years of her life and it’s only since the start of this year that she is sleeping through the night at 3 and a half…so you see I have not finished revising it…. But anywho, I kick ass at organizational development and love, love, love that work with a passion!
- I had the highest IQ in my 7th grade class. I know this because my friend Cathy looked in her teacher dad’s brief case and then told everyone their results.
- I was state champion bicycle racer in road race and time trial for 3 years in a row as a junior
- I take an eastern approach to spirituality, which totally filters the way I view the world. It includes a belief in karma and past lives and soul travel and life beyond this one as well as a god who is not really interested in people's day to day bullshit. I can’t help it, my experiences are my guide. But I deplore the evangelical approach and strongly support respecting other people’s experiences and reality, even if it differs from mine.
- I think George Bush is an incredible idiot and every time I see him I see a little beanie with helicopter like rotor on his head in multi color.
- I flew small planes for awhile and loved it.
Why, at times, does my husband remind me of my father? Creepy as that is, it might not be him but me. My reaction to getting directed on things that I am perfectly competent at and might have actually taught him a thing or two about is, you could say, a bit strong. I married the oldest child you see and he had a lot of responsibility growing up looking after his siblings. So naturally, he is a bit bossy. But still, for crying out loud, I don’t need just in time lessons on how to drive while driving or load up the wood stove. I grew up with a two wood stoves in a house solely heated by wood. He grew up in a centrally gas heated row house in Dublin. Who knows more about wood and wood stoves? That would be me. He did not even know what kindling was until I told him or how to start a fire until I taught him. I yi yi. But still, another girl might think it’s cute. Another woman might not mind being told how to do every day things by men. Maybe it's because of #11 in the about me post.
