Something like a Duck

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's not a cat

A hatched idea…

on May 11, 2012

My childhood was as equally tormented as tormenting. The perfect balance of victim/ruffian. Nothing too awkward about my awkward pubescence. Nose-dive into adulthood? Very standard by all means: a wife by age 20, a mother by 21, 23, and again at 27 (are you thinking what I’m thinking… “why didn’t she just get cable in the bedroom!?”). House? check. Dogs? check. Minivan? check, check. And through it all, a voice in the thick of my thoughts whispered, “Where are you?”  I was always on ball with the feat at hand whether it be wrestling a fork from a back-flipping toddler or post-it-noting my bedroom romance reminders (“lock door for privacy. theirs not ours”). I was attentive to the details (there is a perfect crescent crusted booger on the left side of the third-row bench in the van. it was not there yesterday), and both over-reactive and over-whelmed by their discovery.

Nary a life event occurred without my witness to it. But, where in the hell was I!? I knew where the Oxy White Out was. I knew where the hubby’s screw driver was. The little microscopic light saber that comes with the LEGO Jedi? It’s in between the love seat cushions (along with the Dorito and magic marker). And the work file saved under the ‘Work File’ drive that no one could figure out was saved there? I knew where that was too. Why, o why, then did I not know where I was!? I would look in my marriage. I searched through my parenting. The vast desert land of my career? Not there either (although the visual of the Spaceballs scene where they are ‘combing’ the desert and the guy with the giant pick hollers “We ain’t found sh#t!” does come to mind). I had established how I was; neurotic, wound-up, constant, exhausting, and exhausted. And that was what was keeping me from finding who I am. Then it happened! My father’s voice blared at me, “You know, Chris, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s going to be…” “A CAT, Daddy!! A really fat cat…” heeheehee. You have to understand my father and I can never pass up the chance to out-smart(ass) each other.  Joking aside, this was it!! My life motto was born then and there:

Accept the obvious. It exists for a reason.

Better than that, be the obvious. If its your nature to laugh, then please do. If you are the perpetual pessimist, then negative-Nelly it is! Be who I am however it meant being. So, balls-to-the-wall drunk with new passion and enthusiasm I listened to another voice (and hers comes complete with interpretive dance),  “WRITE!!!” All of my life I had washed the world in words. They were (and remain) my woobie.  I had them wrapped tight around my first love, strangling my first heartbreak, and swaddling my sweet babies. I have journals and notepads,  sticky notes and Hallmark cards drenched in my written verse (that is hand written work, folks. obviously I am of a dying breed). Katie spake and thus the  clouds did part to reveal a truer Heaven: “You, Christina (Almighty and Brilliant of Mind), exist! Prove it. Become one with the Blogosphere!” And so shall it be. To the beginning of something beautiful (and more than likely incriminating), I offer a toast…literally. It is snack 0’clock on my watch and a Nutella on wheat over there is conspiring to ruin my waistline.

I offer myself to the entirety of the world in hopes that I find me first. Before the lunatic does. And here’s to hoping that that is not one and the same person…


One response to “A hatched idea…

  1. […] Kerri. She was educational without being somniferous . She was honest, not self-righteous. I am a duck, and this site QUACKS!! It is blatantly real. I was (and am) so new to this that I need to know […]

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