"I Guess That's Me"

This may not be interesting unless you personally identify, and even then, it’s a coin flip.  But hey, what isn’t?

Note:  It now appears that this post will have three openings, of which the foregoing was merely the first.

Post Opening Number Two:

I have quoted before a line from the play Luv, where a character says,

“How do I know what I think till I hear what I say?”

In similar fashion, I paraphrasinglly propose:

“How do I know who I am till I see what I do?”

Finally – actually this is more of more “Supporting Example” than “Subsequent Beginning” –

When, circa age 50, on my young daughter’s behalf I wrote a letter to “Sea World”, complaining that their “Inflatable Shamu” had immediately burst at the seams when it was blown up, and carefully perused what I had composed.  It was only then I realized that I was truly a writer.  And I had been working professionally for twenty-five years.

(A fourth interruption – if you can interrupt something before you begin.  My tentative feeling concerning this post compels me to stall as long as I can.  Since, I can devise no further viable or otherwise stalling techniques, however, crossing my fingers, here we go.)

Our story concerns replacing a worn-out upstairs carpet “runner.”

So long, and I will see you next post.

Forging ahead, possibly alone…

What makes the upcoming story worth telling, is that it insightfully revealed, as with “Shamu”, a core component of my innate character.

“Insightful ‘reveals’” do not happen that often.  Me and my innate character have a nodding acquaintance, but we rarely converse.

Okay, first, some historical background.  (Not stalling this time.  This matters.)   

We live in a 1910 “Craftsman Bungalow” (saved from demolishing developers by Dr. M and her friend Ruth by getting it declared a Santa Monica landmark.)  Being hardline proponents in this regard, it is important that our replacement upstairs carpet “runner” – among other things, like era-appropriate “hardware” – is carefully consistent with that stylistic motif.

The issue in question was “How consistent”?

Already determined as competing “Finalists” were two “swatch-sized” samples of replacement carpet “runner” design.

Jumping to the “meat” of the “melee”, after examining both samples, Dr. M’s friend Leah, a seasoned decorator in her own right – her “ranch-style” abode is spectacular – selected one sample.

And Dr. M selected the other.

Leaving me, a “spontaneous reactor” with no competing credentials, positioned between two strong and knowledgeable women.

One of whom was my wife, but that had nothing to do with it. 

(I don’t think.)

(No, really.)

As time went on, both sides insistently dug in, confidently convinced their selection was better.  

It was now my turn to opine.  (Though it did not have to be.  It’s just the kind of person I am.  A person who voluntarily’s “asking for it.”)

Having considered both samples, I then pronounce (a messier of) this:

“From an aesthetic standpoint, Leah’s selection is more scrupulously consistent with the ‘Craftsman Bungalow’ motif.  However, the other choice, which is perhaps technically less ‘correct’ although still stylistically ‘in the ballpark’ is for me visually ‘sunnier’, and therefore happier to live with.”

(We decided on that one.)

And there you have it.

What I did revealed to anyone noticing – which I believe was just me – who essentially I am.

I hear both sides.

And then ultimately weigh in. 

Seeing that’s what I do, I thought,

“I guess that’s who I am.”

Followed proudly and privately by,

“I like who I am.”

Realizing that that “listening” approach went beyond replacement upstairs carpet “runner” disputes.

At my best, that’s me pretty much all over.  (Although my “Final Decisions” can sound gratingly obstinate.)

And that’s it. 

Something I noticed about myself that I liked.

Making noticing that much more fun.