Once again the glaring reality of the woman I will never be has shone unmercifully upon me.
Yesterday my daughter and I volunteered along with my future son-in-law to tutor some ACT students at a city school their church has adopted. Afterward in chatting with some other volunteers one of the ladies inquired about their engagement and how the wedding plans were coming.
Me: I like to remind her that after it's all over she is just
going to be married. (When I tell brides this what I
mean is that I want them to think more about the
MARRIAGE than about that one day.)
This woman misunderstood (the story of my life) and took it to be a commentary on the state of my marriage.
I knew immediately what was coming.
A sudden look of sadness overtook her countenance. She put her hand on my daughter's arm and looked at her with a look of pity and said "It doesn't have to be that way. YOU can have a happy marriage" and a lot of other stuff I don't remember because I was thinking...
My nemesis; sweet, sincere, soft spoken, and someone who obviously has not spent the better part of her life lamenting all the things she had said...out loud, in public, that she wished she could take back.
Snarkiness doesn't translate to the sincere and literal personality type.
Everyone doesn't get the joke. Someday I will learn that.
It wasn't yesterday.
In the south "sweetness" is a highly valued quality in iced tea, hounds, and women. At 45 I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I'm never going to quite measure up. I can assure you that when someone is describing me "sweet" is not the first adjective that comes to mind.
I'll add extra sugar to the tea and let the dogs know they have their work cut out for them; The Fight for Southern Independence isn't the only lost cause around this house.