Category: Introvert

Sisters Are Masking Up For Some Fun

Last month, my sister Alissa texted in our “Sistas” group chat, “What are you doing June 4th??”
Well, let me think…….Staying at home, like the rest of the world. Like we’ve been doing? Pre and Post Coronapocalypse, my schedule is always pretty open.
“Mark your calendar for a sisters night!!! We’ll FaceTime and celebrate your birthday!”

Sure, ok. I can take time out of my busy schedule of reclusing to FaceTime.

Of course then later that afternoon, Alissa tagged me in an instagram post, promoting a Live Instagram Party on June 4th! I’ve been duped!!!!!! 

Being the rather un-savvy human that I am, I saw “Live Instagram Party,” and I pictured “100 random people, mostly from CNY, meeting up in mud masks, for the world to see!”

So then the text:
Oh Alissa no!!!!! Dirty trick! 
Social distancing party with random ass strangers?!?!

She talked me down, and promised: “You’re alone in your house watching an Instagram Live as she sits in her house doing a facial. You’re watching someone doe the facial and tell you the steps and she’s also hilarious and plays music.”

Honestly, Alissa, I love you, I do. But had I known the details, I would have RSVPed NO.

But, I was suckered into girl time, and with my sisters both over 1,100 miles away, it isn’t like we spend a lot (or any) time together. I can suck it up and deal with whatever painful experience this is about to be.

Alissa, whatever happens next, don’t get offended.

This socially distanced girls’ night was still weeks away. In the interim, Justin and I decided to take on the overwhelming project of pulling up our upstairs carpet and installing vinyl plank flooring (this project hasn’t started yet, so be on the lookout for either an SOS or questions on how to dispose of a body–from either Justin or me. Things will most likely get intense). When we received our shipment notification, well, wouldn’t you know, it was being delivered June 4th! This could potentially be my justified out–the last time we received a freight shipment, it came at 8pm, so, a girl can dream.

Of course, that wasn’t the case, and it was dropped off at 1:30. Which not only gave me plenty of time to make it to my socially-distanced nightmare, but also left me alone to carry 1600lbs of flooring into the house. One. Box. At a time.

I need to back up. Yesterday was crazy (in terms of Sam’s Usual Schedule). Honestly, this entire week has been wild–I’ve left the house more times this week than there are days in the week. Don’t judge me, that’s a big deal.
Morning vet trip with Bruce. Home to wait for flooring. Forty-five minutes carrying in a million boxes (ok, there were a lot of texting breaks). Make dinner so we can eat before gymnastics. Gymnastics. And then home again, in time to cut watermelon, take a shower (because, the boxes. And the heat. And the sweat. And I’m gross), and wait…

I should probably jump in and explain at this moment just how very different my sisters and I are. They’re……pretty girlie. I will admit that Alissa has toned it down in the last 5 years (I’m being honest Alissa. Having kids has changed you, for the better…don’t hate me). I will not ever be the mani/pedi girl. I cut my own hair. I’m not low maintenance–I’m no maintenance. That’s….probably not true. I did shave my legs last week, so some maintenance went into all of this (me–all of me).

Alissa sent me a list of items I would need, since my facial kit didn’t arrive in the mail on time. Bowl of hot water? Towel? Cleanser, exfoliated, steamer (my rice steamer was still on the counter from dinner, but I don’t think that’s what they had in mind), mask (like, “I wear a mask to protect you; you wear a mask to protect me?” Is 1,100 miles not enough distance, socially speaking?), toner (now I’m thinking Jane Fonda workout videos from the 80s). Step 6 says “treat,” and Justin didn’t bring me any candy, so I guess this party just got ruined.

I jump on this FaceTime call with my sisters, and away we go?? I don’t know. “Sign into Instagram and start her video!”
Ok, but swear to me that I hit this button and random people aren’t going to see me?
“OMG No. Just do it.”

The video didn’t work. I cried the tears of a thousand heartbreaks.
“Sam! Get your cleanser!”
“I’m not doing that.”

Is it just me? Am I the only one who thinks it’s weird to wash your face for fun, in front of…anyone? This isn’t a Neutrogena commercial, and I’m not washing my face out of a bowl, in front of my computer. Weird.

I understand the sentiment, I do. And Alissa, your heart is always in the right place. But an ice cream eating party is a little more in my wheelhouse. Ben? Jerry? You’re both invited, but only if you bring the flavors.

Meanwhile, of course, Alissa and Erica are really getting into this. And I’m really trying not to laugh myself into a crying fit. “Sam! Where’s your cleanser!?”
It’s here–see me, pretending to be doing anything other than laugh.

I hear through my phone, from their viewing of the Instagram Live (that never loaded on my end), “get your steamers out, girls!”
JUSTIN!!!! Where’s your uniform steamer?? I’m going to need that…for my face.

We’re already up to enzymes. Let me pause for a moment and say that there are two reasons I don’t eat yogurt. 1. The consistency. 2. It’s Alive!!! So now, Alissa informs us that the enzyme step burns. Is it because microorganisms are, perhaps, eating your face?!?!

“Sam! Get your mask.”
“No.”

Sometimes (sometimes) I throw a face mask on while Justin and I watch tv at night. Never (ever) do I sit in front of my computer and talk to people with a face mask on. Because……I guess I’m not fun. Also, the number of times my skin has reacted to one mask or another, leaving me looking Hot Tamale Red–sisters or no sisters, I don’t really want to talk to anyone when my face is burning.

At the end of it all, I got to catch up with my sisters, who I rarely speak to (not for any reason other than I’m here, and they’re there, and, I’m more a texter than a talker). We talked longer last night than we probably have in years, so, thanks Liss….even if I didn’t mask up!

Get Up, Covid Get Down With Self-Quarantine

Congratulations, everyone. We made it through the first 6 months of self-quarantine….wait…crap. Let’s try that again.

Congratulations everyone! We’ve made it through the first week of self-quarantine. Here’s what I’ve noticed so far.

Nothing. Has. Changed. At least for me, but as I’ve said before, I am a Master Social-Distancer. Ask an introvert how they’re doing in self-quarantine, and chances are they’ll tell you how amazing it is that no one has dropped by unannounced, or no one has begged them to go out in the world and be social. For the extroverts who are feeling like it’s been 6 months, or maybe even closer to 6 years, just think, what you’re going through right now, is exactly how introverts have felt–forced to do things they really don’t want to do. Sorry, extroverts–you’re in our world now.

Truly though, I think there’s something wrong with my children. Not wrong, but…something is going on. The side-effects of a world without outside influences, maybe? All I know is that Monday morning when I woke up, I prayed that we made it through the week without one murdering the other. By Friday, I noticed…something. Is this…friendship?? Are they getting along?!

My darling angels, who normally spend every waking moment pushing the buttons of the other, were suddenly choosing to spend time together. They spent close to an hour yesterday reading their Pokemon Guidebooks, and no one got punched or scratched! All eyes remained firmly inside their sockets.

They have also spent hours on the trampoline, with the sprinkler (before you shiver to death, my dear Northerners, it is currently 85 and sunny here in the Dirty South).

I’ve been trying to fill their days with learning–you see, unlike the spoiled suburbanites (and possibly urbanites as well), the rural kids don’t have online learning. There is no Google Classroom for rural Alabama children. Our county gave us a list of places we could pick up a packet per student. Our county has a 22% poverty rate. To put that into perspective, Saratoga County NY (chosen because that’s where I grew up) has a 6% poverty rate; no county in NYS has a rate over 18%.

I have noticed a lot of complaining on social media, about how unfair it is that teachers are expecting their students (and parents) to do so much work, while parents are also trying to work from home. I can understand the frustration…but think about the alternative–your child could have been handed a 60 page packet, while in your head you can hear Edward R. Murrow saying, “goodnight, and good luck.”

I am not “education shaming” anyone (is that a thing? I don’t know–I’m probably just making it up). I just want you, the parent frustrated with the daily assignments to know that it could be worse. You could be waking up every morning and thinking, what am I going to attempt to teach my children once they’ve made it through their work packets? What happens if this quarantine lasts longer than these initial 3 weeks? What if I am now responsible for my children’s education, with no guidance for the rest of the school year? For eighteen months!?

You see? You are angry at teacher, who had to figure out how to work from home in under 24 hours. They did not ask for this. This isn’t necessarily something they’ve been doing all along, so chances are they had to learn and work to make this happen. While you are working from home and trying to help children with homework, teachers are are now at home, trying to teach your kids, plus however many other children are in their classroom, plus now also teaching their children. I have seen so many cool posts from educators this past week, who are trying to make the best of a crappy situation. They aren’t perfect, but no one is. We’re all doing out best, and it helps no one to jump on social media and attack teachers for not being able to teach in a classroom. Would you attack nurses for the lack of hospital beds? Would you attack the cashier at the grocery store for the total lack of toilet paper and ground beef?

Who knows. You might. But take a deep breath, and ask yourself–do they have any control over the situation?? Do any of us?

My kids just came inside to inform me that Shea was throwing shoes at Xander…but Xander also wasn’t helping to pick up the water balloon pieces from the trampoline. *Sigh* At least this week is Spring Break–I can pretend my children’s education, and therefore future, isn’t landing 100% on my shoulders.

And for the rest of you, who aren’t on Spring Break, cut these teachers some slack. For the parents who are frustrated with the amount of work they now feel teachers are requiring of them, I promise, there are no teacher kicking back and drinking a beer, while you alone juggle your added daily tasks. For the parents who might not live in a community with fancy schools and chrome books sent home with your children, or google classroom to keep your children’s brains full and growing–well, Goodnight, and Good Luck.

What Was I Thinking?!

There are rules that need to be followed in times of Social-Distancing; as a professional social-distancer, I should know better than to break these rules.

I’m sure most people have seen the meme, reminding folks that, no matter how bored you get, do not cut your own bangs. If only that was what I did.

First, before we get to my latest Social-Distancing-SNAFU, let’s take a trip back in time. The year: 2005. My status: newly (secretly) married, unemployed, in a post-Hurricane Katrina southern town, where frequent newspaper articles discussed the resurgence of carpet-bagging. And there I was, a transplant from New York, desperate to steal jobs away from Georgians. I was broke, and jobless.

Wait–before I continue on–I just opened my blinds and discovered I have not one, but two 4ft tall DANDELIONS in my front garden bed. I guess maybe now would be the time to look up Dandelion Green recipes! These are desperate times (and this is the south).

Ok. Georgia. Late November 2005. I had just gotten off the phone with a friend in NY, who had just gotten a haircut by my hairdresser, and I was feeling a little…I guess FOMO? EOHC (That would be Envy of HairCuts…but it really doesn’t have the same ring)? I had already been cutting my own hair–it was short, and I would shave up the back and trim up the top. Fun. And. Spiky. In that moment, I decided I wanted to give a pixie-cut a try. So, clippers in hand, with the #6 guard, I made an absolutely illegal move–I shaved right down the middle of my head…and instantly shouted, “oh shit!” Too late to come back from this terrible decision, I finished the job, and texted Justin: I did something really bad.

There it is: proof that you shouldn’t make spur of the moment decisions in times of extreme social distancing. Don’t listen to the voice saying, “do it! This is a good idea! You definitely won’t regret this in 5 seconds!” That voice is a dirty liar who will cut and run the second you realize it’s a bad idea, and you will definitely regret it.

Fourteen years later, I found myself participating in once again, listening to bad ideas, instigated by the voice who is just trying to get me in trouble. “Ooh, you know what would be fun?! Let’s play around with your website, and push buttons and try things, and see what happens! Doesn’t that sound like fun?! At 9:45pm, when your husband is halfway through a 38hr shift, and you can’t sleep, because you don’t know how to adult when he isn’t home to tell you to go to bed, mistakes will be made.

…and, save. And….shit. It was gone. Well, it was there, but it was sad and broken, and kept telling me something went wrong. No kidding, something went wrong! You let me think I knew what I was doing!!! I tried and tried to think of how I could fix this: maybe if I just say, “please be there, please be there, please be there,” over and over again, it will self-correct? By 1am, I gave up. I started contemplating actual solutions that would lead to results.

This morning, I woke up with a possible solution. I didn’t love what I had to do next…

Let me just say, that, as an introvert who can lean toward the edge of recluse, I have some really amazing friends scattered around the world….and I might go years without talking to them.

That’s where I found myself this morning. I hate asking for help, when the person I’m asking is someone I haven’t spoken to in half a decade. It has nothing to do with not wanting to reach out–it just feels…selfish. “Hey, I know it’s been 5 years, and how are you, and also, please help me fix my foolish blunder.”

Friendship is a magical thing. Two hours later, with a minimal amount of help from me:
“How do you normally sign in?”
“I don’t know. I click the link and I’m there.”
He saved my life…or at least my website. We both can appreciate a healthy amount of social distancing–introverts of the world, unite. Just–stay on your own side.
“THANK YOU again for saving my blog. Let’s not wait 5 years for another technical emergency, to get back in contact.”
“Technical emergency IN A PANDEMIC! Hopefully, those two will never coincide again.”

Truth be told, one lead to the other. Pompous Pandemic Pluck…and that dirty voice that needs to stop giving me bad advice!

Tom wants to help you too! I mean, he didn’t say that, really. But, I’m a parent. And I know some parents. And this could come in handy, while we’re all keeping our distance, and slowly losing our minds. Just like that, my friend is now helping you! Promoting Pandemic…Philanthropy?

Sittin’ in Self-Quarantine, Wastin’ Time

I don’t have coronavirus. I also don’t know anyone personally who does. That doesn’t mean I’m running around with an “I’m not worried” attitude.

I’m currently on day 13,797 of practicing social-distancing. Give or take. I’ve had lapses in my practice, but for the most part, I’ve limited human interaction to mainly small gatherings for my nearly 38 years on Earth. Thank you, thank you, I know–extroverts everywhere are reading that and gasping in horror. I would like to thank my Mom, for passing down her introvert gene. I proudly come from a long line of introverts, mostly on my Mom’s side.

For a majority of my life, my Introvert personality was something I thought I could change; something I thought I wanted to change. These last 18 months, I’ve been feeling myself slipping closer to the edge of “recluse,” and I do often have to talk myself into going to events where I know there will be people.

The fact of the matter is, I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. Let’s all stop worrying about “me,” and start focusing on what we can do for our neighbor. You can choose to believe that this is a real virus, with scary consequences, or you can continue to chalk it up to liberal hype. Regardless of your beliefs on this matter, please, practice a little social-distancing. If the idea of staying away from humans terrifies you, just remember, introverts have most likely spent their entire lives dreading large gatherings. Welcome to our world. Sit back, read a book. And keep your grimy mitts to yourself.

New Year, New Me

Just kidding. It’s more like New Year, Same Me…hopefully a better version of me? I’m trying.

In all honesty, in 37 years I have yet to remake myself in any way. I went away to college and told myself I would be outgoing. I transferred and told myself this time I would be outgoing. By my 20s I realized that was not really ever anything I would be, let alone anything I actually wanted. I embraced the introvert in me.

Organization is another issue for me. I’m a disaster. I’m a tornado in a trailer park. I really do try. Every move, every season, I try to be better at not being a train wreck. Again, this is easier said than done. Lists are made, and lost. I try every approach imaginable, and I always seem to find myself back in the land of Overwhelmed.

I can accept that I will never be the person whose home is something out of a magazine, but this year I really, really would like to be able to get it together and keep it that way. Fewer naps; more organizing.

Here’s hoping my depression and ADD are willing to cooperate. Because the excuse, “I couldn’t do the dishes–it was raining,” doesn’t always go over well…seeing as though dishes (and laundry, and most other cleaning tasks) take place indoors.

Happy 2020!