Yesterday’s snowy (4 inches here in the Wasatch benches) spring morning seemed like a good time to catch up my own blog reading, plus explore a few “teckie” blogs as I’m always hoping to learn how to do new things. As usual I got quite lost for awhile, had no idea where I was, but somewhere along the way I caught a snatch of a post that mentioned something about whether a photo of “you” first thing in the morning or a photo showing a random bookshelf showing what books you’re into would most define you as a person.
Later as I was remembering and thinking of it, I decided a variation on the theme would be a great idea (and quick!) for a post of my own. I’m sorry I can’t remember what blog gave me the inspiration (so I could attribute and link to it) as I was following lots of links and can only remember beginning somewhere in Germany. I’m sure there are lots of you blogaholics out there who are very much like me in your online meanderings and will understand perfectly.
So I decided to expose myself as I look early in the morning without so much as combing my hair or getting dressed. Here I am the way I look most every morning after I put my glasses on so I can see. Now you see what Hubby has to face over coffee every morning! It can be worse at times, but never gets better than this! not even after a trip to the beauty parlour!
What does it reveal? My sagging eyelids that I hate. Fat cheeks. My wrinkles. Thinning hair. But is that the real me? Nope! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin! It does give the impression of an old woman who is either crazy or very brave. I’ll let you be the judge of that!
Then I went downstairs to my bookshelves. Which section of books most represent the essence of me? The fiction section? Maybe. If the picture were magnified a bit, you’d see that I’ve organized each book alphabetically by author’s last name. Does that tell you anything? On the left side, that book second from the left, is Iris Murdoch’s 1965 novel The Red and the Green about the 1916 Easter Uprising in Dublin. That tells you if I bought a book I like it stays around for a long, long time. The Eragon and the book beside it by James Patterson (in the center) are Hubby’s, not mine. Salmon Rushdie is there on the right edge with his Satanic Verses which I haven’t read at all other than scanning; It’s a very complicated book and I bought as a political statement more than for reading, and there’s even a Joyce Carol Oates and an R.K. Nagarajan. There’s even The Raj, that pink book that I didn’t even like that much except for the glimpses of British India it gives me.
What might be slightly more revealing is the picture on the right that tells you I’ve collected a few children’s books over the years. Representative of Shel Silverstein is A Light in the Attic and Where the Sidewalk Ends which belong in every home in my opinion to remind you to keep in touch with the child inside you. There’s several Caldecott winners there, too. That book on the right stack, on the top, is Duey’s Tale, about the death (and rebirth) of a leaf that fell from the tree in the fall by a surprising author. I wonder how many people know that Pearl Bailey wrote a book for children? It’s very long, and probably wouldn’t have been published if it hadn’t been written by a celebrity, but who I am to complain?
So there you go. Depending on your frame of mind, this is either a very revealing post about me, or more blogging trash deserving no more thought than that. Which one!? I wonder myself all the time.
Update: The mystery for my inspiration has been solved! If you’ll click in the comments section following this post, you’ll see a link from bigappletobigbear, the blog in Germany. BABG is a transplanted New Yorker now living in Berlin. I’ve also added it to my Blogroll; you could visit her there if you’d like. Thank you, bigapple!