I committed to pick a design and organize my blog this weekend. It has not been going well. As an INTJ, I am great at the big picture, solving complex problems – but this “read the directions, make a decision, blah” kind of thing is not my cup of tea. But since I signed a blood oath and purchased the upgrades, I was sticking to it. And in typical INTJ fashion, I was rather involved with the project this morning when my daughter told me she couldn’t ride her bike to her volunteer job since it was raining. “Oh, okay, honey” was my response to her. I think, in the back of my head, I guessed she was going to call in and not attend.
She left the house 15 minutes ago as I continued to sift through a technical issue. A few minutes later I saw the daily prompt. “Sorry, I’m Busy.” She didn’t ask because she realized I was busy. My 17 year old arranged her own transportation. Good for her. I am glad to know that she took the initiative to follow through with her obligation, solving her problem with no drama – because there has been a great deal lately. Had she asked for a ride, I would have been glad to drive her. Ironically, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her, and the “Ghost Story” from yesterday.
I need to set the record straight and confess my other faux pas. (The french term for blunder/mistake/howler/error transitioned to “four paws” when the children were very young and one of them decided it was more appropriate since we had 6 animals with 4 paws each. Since then, a “my bad” is referred to as a “four paws.”)
I tried to condense two long stories that span over 150 years into 100 words for a writing challenge. It seemed like a good idea at the time – a good diversion
from trying to organize my blog to a new theme and format. (Has NO ONE heard me screaming this weekend?) I received some great feedback, which I appreciate in the challenges – they stretch me. But 1.) subtly is wasted on me (and most INTJ’s) and 2.) I am not a great proof-reader for my blog – that is one of my blogging rules so I will hit the “publish” button. Otherwise I would critique and proof the article to death. SO… It wasn’t until the wee hours of the night when a fellow blogger asked about the style of painting on the trunk – rosemulling. He said he would look it up. I have been having trouble with the links looking as links should with this blog style, so I pulled up the page to check – and started laughing… and laughing… because as you can see from the screen shot below, it looks as though I have labeled my daughter as a “Painted Norwegian Immigrant.”
I promise: 1. it was a link to a historical page with a Rosemaled TRUNK, and 2. the work TRUNK was included when I originally typed it up, 3. I even attempted to underline and change the color of the link so it would look like a LINK – believing that not everyone would know what “rosemaled” meant.
Granted, my daughter is wearing decorative face paint from the fair, but she was not rosemaled. And yes, I do realize my daughter is not Norwegian, nor is she nordic in appearance, though her stubbornness rivals the best of them (us) any day. My daughter is from the Kingdom of Nepal. Completing an adoption in that country is more difficult, and can take months longer than climbing Mount Everest. I was there for a long time and some of the rural residents called me “the crazy white lady with the brown baby.” I can’t say I disagreed with them by the time I left Nepal. But those are stories for another time.
My son, her 3 year old brother, was waiting at home – her very Norwegian looking brother, with blue eyes and blond hair. I have hazel eyes and brown hair, so none of us look alike. But we are a family that has learned to laugh at our “four paws” and know that “normal” is highly over-rated – and “crazy” stretches the imagination, and tends to be a given when you grow up in a house filled with lots of dogs, cats and a few small pink elephants sprinkled in.
Full disclosure here: My daughter is NOT a “Painted Norwegian Immigrant” but she was issued a “green card” (pink, actually). And the top of it read “ALIEN….” Yes, John did tell people that his sister was an alien. Fortunately that stage passed quickly.
I think I will be changing blog formats. Again.
Perhaps a bit of rosemulling would be nice. Or some mulled wine….
Categories: Humor - I like irony, puns and dark side humor.