We’re the same age, though if pressed, I’d have to admit she’s older than me by four months. But that’s not the reason I look up to her. No. It’s because of her height. She’s probably the tallest one in our family, certainly among the women, whom for the most part have never seen the far side of five-foot, four.
Unlike me, Adele is half Puerto Rican. When we were young, I assumed that made her a better dancer. Think “West Side Story.” If you ask me, nobody could cut a rug like the Sharks and their women.
Anyway, being how my daughter is visiting for just a few days and I want to spend as much time with her as I can, I asked Adele to write a post introducing herself to you. So read on and talk amongst yourselves while I get a little verklempt spending precious time with my girl.
Getting to Know You
Since Monica has floated the idea of my posting additional pieces on her blog from time to time, maybe it’s a good idea to get to know me a little bit. So here you go:
I was born to a family high in the Swedish aristocracy, but was kidnapped as an infant by a roving band of deranged Puerto Rican housewives…well, that’s what I told myself as a child to try and explain why I was so different from the rest of my family.
I can make 30-minute brownies in 20 minutes, I can change the oil in my car every 3,000 miles (but first it has to want to change) and I once discovered the secret to life, but I forgot to write it down…well, maybe the brownies take 40 minutes but they’re totally worth the wait.
I’m a recovering attorney who performs standup comedy. And I may be old, chubby and bitter, but I still “put out”…well, that part’s all true!
I’ve always loved writing; I’ve been keeping notebooks and journals since elementary school. I’ve used everything from small school-girl diaries, that came with a lock and key (implying that you could pour out your heart in its pages and it would always be kept secret), to the over-sized ledgers with numbered pages used by accountants (as if the lines and numbers could bring order to my thoughts).
Now I favor medium-sized, leather bound journals and I always have one with me. But frankly, when an idea hits me, I’m happy to scribble it down on the back of a grocery receipt, last Sunday’s church bulletin, hell, even an ancient Tampax wrapper dug from the bottom of my purse (don’t judge!). I’ve even written myself a middle-of-the-night note on the bathroom mirror–in toothpaste! Bad idea: come morning, I had no clue what I’d written and I had to scrape off the rock-hard Crest!
As a lawyer, I’ve written documents so mind-numbingly dull, they could put to sleep a nursery full of teething two year olds. As a comic, I’ve written sets that sounded great on paper but fell flatter than a pregnant pole vaulter on stage. As a mom, I’ve written some of the most creative homework excuses for my kids ev-er. (The dog ate his homework? Please. That is so amateur hour. I went for “My son was captured by aliens and they misplaced his book report during the anal probe.”)
But mostly I write it down to figure out how I feel about it whatever it is I’ve experienced; as though it’s not fully imprinted on my consciousness until I’ve processed it through the sieve of language and syntax.
And when I’m not writing, I’m baking (my tiramisu cheesecake is worth an extra six weeks at Weight Watchers!), or painting floor cloths and furniture (which I sell at holiday boutiques), reading a dozen or so books a month (histories to mysteries), and finding new ways to embarrass my kids (they keep telling people I’m just their Guatemalan nanny. Smartasses….).
So there you are. Not much hard core info (yet) but each post reveals a little more about the writer, don’t you agree?
So what makes you want to write it down?