As for personal writing, I spent a lot of the weekend on my Real LJ Idol story. It started easily, but grew stubborn after about 400 words, and had to be threatened all the way to the finish. In between, my son had two basketball games, and there was the epic heartbreak of the 49ers losing a chance at the Super Bowl—harder on Christopher than anyone.
Because so many of my LJ Idol entries have been nonfiction, I almost feel as if I have to hoard my anecdotes and thinky-thoughts, in case I need them later. But let me throw something out here now: Thoughts on Self-Awareness.
One of my sisters jokes that, because my Dad is so self-UNaware (and also a psychiatrist), all of his kids analyze their own motives relentlessly to keep from being quite so clueless. And yet, things still slip through:
At Disneyland last spring, the kids and I found ourselves a few places in line behind a family of blonds and brunettes that had a single red-haired girl. I muttered something about, "That must be hard, growing up as the only redhead in your family," and my daughter turned to me with a gleam in her eye and said, "Yes, Mama. Tell us what that was like!" D'OH!
This past fall, I was crossing the parking lot toward my car after using the ATM. This soccer-mom-type of woman in an SUV drove past with her window down and heavy metal booming from the stereo—not what you'd expect. Lauren was waiting in my car, and I mentioned it to her when I got in. Then I started the engine of my 4Runner, and the stereo cranked out my music: a Fuel CD. "Oh. Heh."
Why can't these moments be unwitnessed? I fear I'm kicking off a new generation of self-analyzing in my kids. :0