I don’t have one. It’s not what I’m saying.
This has occupied my thoughts today. Whatever I write in the rest of this Post, please don’t think I’m being defensive.
Today I stopped at Morels for toast and coffee, with my iPad mini set to online Scrabble™. I was perfectly content in my corner while I kicked some ass in some games, and had mine kicked in others.
Some acquaintances entered the restaurant, and the wife remarked, “Ohhhh look who has time to sit around and play games!”. This was remarkably like an incident a few weeks ago, when, as usual, I was minding my own business and friends joined me. One friend asked me to look up some things on the internet on my iPad, which took some time while my lunch got cold, and later exclaimed, “Oh I don’t have time to play on computers, I’m much too busy for that!”.
This morning, my acquaintance, oblivious to the fact that she had been a tad rude, asked if they could join me. We proceeded to have a very lovely visit and lively discussion about many things. I was not actually in control of the conversation at any point, but it was fun and informative.
They told wonderful stories about their lives and travels. We were talking about writing our stories, and who would read them if we wrote them. I was saying that I have a Blog, and my acquaintance indicated that she probably didn’t have time to read a Blog, as she was writing her mother’s story and had limited personal time and Internet use. Inwardly, I shrugged. I told her about a fantastic Facebook page/group that features local history with dozens of pictures, to which she declared, “Oh, I don’t do Facebook!”. Another secret shrug on my part (the Facebook page could have been relevant to her mother’s biography).
Just a couple of days ago, certain customers dropped off their dog for boarding. They are friends, and I am glad to babysit and keep their stubborn old dog safe and fed. I always am glad to visit with these two people and find out what they’ve been up to, whether it has been just a few days or an entire season.
As we chatted, the wife, “J”, was saying that she could easily have led a life stuck in an office in some corporate environment, as she was raised by intellectuals, and had always been surrounded by academic people. This was how she lived, she said, but her husband had “saved her” from that life, so she could live in the country and farm and have animals.
This assertion gave me pause. “J” always asks about my daughters, especially Susan, who she knows the best. I offered, “Look at my daughters… they weren’t raised among many academicians, but they are very well educated. And being intellectual does not preclude being able to bake a cake, drive a tractor, paint a picture or plant a garden.”.
I know folks who believe that their only marketable skill is between their ears. It is a fine, fine thing if what goes on in there is marketable, but our lives are more about the choices we make. I had a friend, very highly trained in her profession, explain to me that she would ALWAYS have baked pies during her adult life “if only Beth had showed her crumble crusts sooner.”
I will never know what it’s like to live in the lofty world of the excruciatingly high IQ. We all live in our heads, I suppose, but maybe I’m just tired of hearing people imply that they’re too smart to cope, to do what the rest of us do to get through a day, to do mundane work, to make small talk, to volunteer, to play a game on the computer, to bake a pie. My darling daughters and stepdaughter are among the smartest people I know, and they are kind and helpful, not condescending or rude about their keen intellectual abilities and accomplishments, and capable of anything they set their minds to.
Rant over. I have exhausted myself. Please forgive me if you are reading this Blog and see yourself in the conversations that rattled me. You are my friends.
At the Pet Hostel this week, we have a population of medium-large and large dogs. For the most part, they have been great to handle and quite composed while waiting for their beloved owners to return.
There is something riveting on the TV now. I can’t proofread this post any more, nor add to it.
I love you for coming here to read what I have to say.