In my profile, I say I am a quivering mass of contradictions. It's oh so true.
Last night, Lithus and I split a porterhouse. By mutual agreement, he ended up with the bone. At the end of the meal, he was eyeing it wistfully and I said "oh good grief, pick it up!" That's all it took. With a childlike smile, he grabbed that thing up and started gnawing. I told him I was almost offended that he had hesitated at all, instead of digging right in. He shrugged, as if to say "there are limits..."
But we weren't in public. We weren't out at a multi-starred restaurant. We didn't even have guests over (as opposed to family, who wouldn't have cared any more than I do). It was just the two of us, in our own home. Hell, the curtains were even closed. If you can't pick up a steak bone and start gnawing then, when can you?
That being said...We've had a friend staying here the last month, or so. We're all easy with each other and respectful of small space, so it has been more pleasant than three, unrelated people in a one bedroom apartment really has any right to be. At the same time, I haven't gone barefoot since he got here. Going out, I take my slippers off and put on my shoes. Coming home, I kick my shoes off and go directly into my slippers ~ which I have left by the door, so that I can put them on as soon as my shoes come off.
Wha...?
I love being barefoot. And we have floors that feel really good on bare feet. It just hasn't felt...proper. In thinking about it, I don't believe I ever saw my grandmothers' bare feet. One of them lived where there was a pool, and I cannot believe she never took us there ~ but I cannot remember it, for certain. Shoes, certainly. House slippers, yes. Bare feet? I have no memory at all of that. It wasn't proper. Now that I have a long-term house guest, my feet have been shod.
I've sat at the table with our friend, gotten drunk on brown liquor, and told off-color jokes, mind you. I just haven't been barefoot. Don't much care about being ladylike; apparently care a great deal about being proper. Maybe it's what makes me a lady, instead of just ladylike. Or maybe, I'm just a quivering mass of contradictions. That's always an option.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
4 comments:
I never thought about it before, but it now occurs to me that I'm jealous that you've owned "quivering mass of contradictions" since even before, I believe, I started blogging.
P.S. It's a shame you've needed to enable comment moderation, but having been the target of one of those nasties and seen others via email, I appreciate your taking on the additional task.
Mike Christie ~ :):) Yes, I have used quivering mass of contradictions since I was 19 or 20. It's a very simple, yet oh so effective, way of summing me up quickly ~ because really, summing me up quickly is all but impossible.
All well and good, but when I crash on your sofa, please don't be mortified by my slippers or my bare feet. I'll be bringing both.
Lori Stewart ~ I look forward to it! In fact, what are you doing this weekend...? ;)
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