I am an introvert. This may surprise those of you who know me, because I'm an extremely chatty introvert; I'm also a rather adventuresome introvert, in that I love, love, love traveling to new places and seeing new things. I love to listen and learn, but I'll also willingly imitate both a vacuum cleaner and an airplane when I can't figure out how to ask in Italian if the vacuum-packed cheeses can be taken onto a plane. (Answer: yes. In CHECKED LUGGAGE ONLY, no thanks to the security guards at Heathrow who pocketed my carry-on cheese.)
Anyway, we've had a lot of "up" time lately: the last several weekends have involved a pony club rally/horse trial, a three-day weekend to visit our son in college, and another horse trial a 5-hour drive away. We were supposed to have had a four-day weekend in Washington, D.C., starting this afternoon, but the government shut down, and this week, so did my family.
My daughter and husband had colds. I just had an introvert attack. I needed to cocoon myself for awhile, and, since I just sent a novel off to a publisher, I'm doing research, which is to say reading books, which dovetails nicely with the cocoon thing. The dogs and I have been curled up on the couch all week.
The problem with being an introvert who travels a lot is that I forget, sometimes, that I need to make an effort here at home. I love being with my friends, but sometimes I have to kick myself into gear to make that happen.
On Tuesday night some of my friends hosted a Tupperware party, if by Tupperware you mean "products for adult relationship enhancement." It was fabulous, not just because of the latex. Put twenty women together with a heap of tasty snacks and several bottles of wine, add in that I've known most of them a decade or more--in a more formal party, or one with lots of strangers in it, I sometimes feel stressed by the small talk. I know how to do it, it's a skill I've learned, but it takes effort that for me is draining. Not with this crew. They know my eccentricities. I know theirs (but I've pledged not to write about them). They understood that, for me, wearing white jeans was DRESSING UP, and complemented me accordingly. None of them asked if I was "still writing."
It was six kinds of awesome, and I swear, the next time I hole up in my happy cave, I'm going to make myself remember that there are places just as cozy on the outside. And ladies, thanks.
Anyway, we've had a lot of "up" time lately: the last several weekends have involved a pony club rally/horse trial, a three-day weekend to visit our son in college, and another horse trial a 5-hour drive away. We were supposed to have had a four-day weekend in Washington, D.C., starting this afternoon, but the government shut down, and this week, so did my family.
My daughter and husband had colds. I just had an introvert attack. I needed to cocoon myself for awhile, and, since I just sent a novel off to a publisher, I'm doing research, which is to say reading books, which dovetails nicely with the cocoon thing. The dogs and I have been curled up on the couch all week.
The problem with being an introvert who travels a lot is that I forget, sometimes, that I need to make an effort here at home. I love being with my friends, but sometimes I have to kick myself into gear to make that happen.
On Tuesday night some of my friends hosted a Tupperware party, if by Tupperware you mean "products for adult relationship enhancement." It was fabulous, not just because of the latex. Put twenty women together with a heap of tasty snacks and several bottles of wine, add in that I've known most of them a decade or more--in a more formal party, or one with lots of strangers in it, I sometimes feel stressed by the small talk. I know how to do it, it's a skill I've learned, but it takes effort that for me is draining. Not with this crew. They know my eccentricities. I know theirs (but I've pledged not to write about them). They understood that, for me, wearing white jeans was DRESSING UP, and complemented me accordingly. None of them asked if I was "still writing."
It was six kinds of awesome, and I swear, the next time I hole up in my happy cave, I'm going to make myself remember that there are places just as cozy on the outside. And ladies, thanks.
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