A 1960's Vari-Vue Smile

I have been under the weather lately - physically, spiritually...

But every time I walk past this 1960's "Vari-Vue" motion image card in my bedroom, I can't help but smile.

When you were a kid, did you sleep with a rubber rat?

You know, I've always thought that I was a pretty typical little girl growing up...

I played Mommy with my baby dolls (oh, how I loved my dolls!) and then it was Mystery Date with Barbies and my brother's one-armed (he had an accident) G.I. Joe. I was a bookworm and had my nose buried in a book much of the time, but also had a bit of the tomboy and daredevil in me too. I remember riding my bicycle down the street near my school - with no hands, and eyes closed. Yes, I fell. But I was proud to show off my scuffed knees and elbows to my sibs, daring them to give it a try too.

Typical kid stuff.

But this morning I suddenly remembered The Rat.

When I was about 11 or 12 years old, I bought myself a black rubber rat with babysitting money. It had sort of a slick oily look to it, with a long winding tail and beady red eyes. Ugh...gives me the creeps thinking about it. But I slept with that thing! Its name was Oscar.

I'm not sure what I was trying to prove. I suppose I was at an age when I wanted to show that I wasn't a little girl anymore. (Little girls sleep with dolls, not rats.) Plus, growing up as daughter-number-three in a lineup of 7 girls and 2 boys, I think that I was continuously struggling to stand out in some way. I wanted to be unique. The rat made me eccentric, but that was fine too.

I'm not sleeping with rats anymore. (Or at least I try not to very often. :-) But I know that I've got a lot of that doll-loving, book-crazy, risk-taking, attention-craving girl still in me. As an adult, I think that it's important for me to look back often at who I was at 5 and 9 and 12 and ask: What did I like to do? What made me happy? What was I good at? And what did I dream of becoming when I grew up?

In this blog I'll be writing about my quest to become "the best version of myself." But I sometimes wonder if, in some ways, I might have been closer to that best version 40 years ago. Hmm... It's certainly an idea worth exploring.

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p.s. - In case you're wondering, I'm the little girl behind (and above) the sister in the white communion dress. (Click on the photo to enlarge.)

Just 5, but I look so cocky and sure of myself. I want her back!

You're so vain, I'll bet you think this blog is about you...

Actually, he's really not vain at all. I can't imagine him watching himself gavotte while wearing a hat dipped below one eye and a scarf of apricot. I tend not to date men who like to gavotte. I'll happily leave those men for Carly Simon.

So...no, he's not vain. But he wouldn't be too far off track in thinking that this blog is about him. Let's just say that he was a major source of inspiration.

The "he" I'm referring to, by the way, is a recent ex-boyfriend. The same one who told me - "If it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger."

Those words give away quite a bit about his character: This is a man who sets goals and follows through. He's determined, consistent and disciplined. There's not one lazy, procrastinating bone in his body.

Basically, he's everything that I am not. And I admire him for it. While we were dating, I think part of my motivation for wanting to get closer (besides the fact that he's so damn attractive) is that I was hoping that some of it would rub off.

Well, no such luck. I was, and still am, the world's worst procrastinator. I am capable of being incredibly determined and disciplined up to a point, especially if I get excited about something. But my excitement (and the discipline that went along with it) tends to fizzle out as soon as the goal starts to feel like work. I get bored easily, I think, and then I'm on to something new. That's not a very good habit, is it?

Okay...I think you should know something about me. I do have a tendency to exaggerate my flaws. For one thing, I am not the world's worst procrastinator. I am pleased to say that, even though I was in a bit of a panic the night before, I got my tax returns completed and in the mail by 11:30 a.m. on April 15. I had over twelve hours to spare! A true world's worst procrastinator would have been driving to the post office at five minutes to midnight...or filing an extension...or missing the deadline completely.

But I can do better. Not so long ago, I wanted to do better for the ex-boyfriend. (Sad, isn't it?) Now I just want to do it for me. And I want to make it fun.

I have some ideas in mind, but I'm still working them out. Bear with me, while I figure out the details. Stay posted!


This one's kind of fun. Mick and Carly together again. Take a look!

I'm 50

There, I said it. I figured I'd just get it out there, right from the start, so you know what you'll be dealing with here. I've got a whole lotta LIFE under my belt. Much of it good, but plenty of battle scars too.

And I'm thankful for all of it. Because, as a recent boyfriend was fond of saying, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." Stronger is good. So is wiser. And at 50, I'm both of those.

But there's still plenty of room for improvement. And that's where this blog comes in.