What they don't know

I'm married to a jock but I don't live and breathe sports as he does. However, I do know a bit about a sport or two. ("You're kidding....you've heard of cricket?")

I'm taller/not as tall as you think I am. For some reason, my actual height of 5' 8" seems to surprise almost anyone I first know at a distance when they meet me face to face.

I tend to be a moderate Democrat. Apparently some of my hard-core Republican friends ignore that fact. (Today a friend urged me to call my Republican friends and reps to support a very right-wing bill.)

I listen, and what I hear I tend to remember. Unfortunately, when it comes to promises, I'm sometimes the only one who remembers. (If I'd waited for the person who offered to put the registration stickers on my license plates, I'd be paying a hefty fine by now.)

Procrastination is my middle name.... after Lee, that is. Other than here at home, I seem to hide that fact well. I'm not sure why...food for thought another time, perhaps.

I believe in rules and being ready to accept the consequences if I decide to break them. (No, I'm not into self-incrimination, so there's no example here.)

A certain amount of tension makes me feel alive, but too much stress can almost paralyze me and it makes me speak in extremes. ("Never again" and "I just can't do this any more" come to mind.) If you think there's a relationship between this statement and the one about procrastination, you'd be right part of the time.

When people don't trust my professional judgment in circumstances in which they should, and the outcomes aren't good or the situation continues to fester, I become bitter. There isn't much that can be done in recompense if the truth of the matter is finally acknowledged, and it's rare that I forget the offense. I know I should let it go, but more often than not it stays with me like a scar.

One heart-felt, spontaneous compliment can keep my spirits soaring for days. The use of the word "really" seals the deal. A new necklace design, the way a light blue sweater looks on me, a simple suggestion I made to avoid a difficult problem, the chicken dish I made last week...they've each inspired favorable comments that still make me smile, and I adore that kind of warmth.

As much as I enjoy investigating new things, I do that from a firm seat amid the predictable. I'm death on becoming stagnant, but I move forward only when there's a solidity behind me. That means I'm not terribly adventuresome (aka avant-garde) but I never want the moss to grow over me or the rust to set in so I can't move. (There's probably a name for this mindset. Pseudo-bravery? ) To some who know me, I'm quite daring and forward-thinking, and to others, I'm stuck in a mire of tradition. That's okay: being in the middle between those two poles works for me.

Those really are freckles on the backs of my hands. They're not age spots. I don't age. :-)