If I''m honest with myself, I probably tell people what they want to hear more than I should. I think that a fellow IMSN-er here appropriately called this trait "ass-kissing". She was joking about a seemingly unrelated issue but she hit the truth with laser accuracy. Yeah, its true. There are three possible motivations for this, some kind and some unflattering. The first potential rationale for this trait could be that I think that people need to figure out the truth for themselves. They always know the truth deep down anyway, its much better when they work it out. Not buying it? Yeah, me either. The second potential reason is that our reality is whatever we make of it. (Yeah, that''s it, sort of like an erudite nod to Jorge Luis Borges in that I accept that infinite possibilities of reality exist and each and every one is true). Riiight. Finally, I may just have to come to terms with the fact that I tend to avoid conflict.

With the above being said, I tend to surround myself who are more than willing to extend me a proverbial kick in the pants when I need it. I often joke to my scathingly honest friends, “Please don’t hold back, feel free to tell me the truth” while their verbally kickin'' my teeth in telling me to get my sh** together. (Note to self: pick new friends who lie).

I think Salma Hayek is hot. Really. In my twenties I kept thinking that maybe I would grow into a shape like hers. It hasn’t happened. To look at the bright side of things, I haven’t struggled with my weight overly much. Yes, I realize that by confessing this I’ve put myself in mortal danger of a serious ass kicking by my compatriots out there struggling with their weight. Dieting sucks and I’m very sympathetic to the cause. Sure, my thighs pudge up after pregnancy or extended travel into countries that understand dairy. Watch, now that I’ve written this down, I’ll bring on some wicked karma and balloon up into 300 pounds. Even so, my chest would never “pudge” like Salma’s. I’ve got the upper body of a sparrow.

Don’t get me wrong, like any girl out there, I’ve had my body issues too. I’ve *mostly* made peace with it. Gotta love those thirties. Trying to look like a couteur model or actress is too much damn work. Seriously, I don’t include eyebrow waxing and hair glossing as a personal hobby. I could never really attend to my looks more than forty minutes in the morning, including shower. If there was perfect alignment in the universe, I might be motivated to aspire to a Title 9 athlete-model type. That is, of course, if I had $250 to plunk down for a pair of sporty Mary Janes and a new age material skort, an extra four hours each day to work out in some sort of invigorating mind-body holistic sport, all while running a major company on the side.

If I were to choose a soundtrack for my life, it would have to be Disco. Even at the height of Disco, I imagine that its cultural adherents were making fun of themselves. It’s just so over the top: spandex, glitter, disco balls, thumping base guitar. Besides, how can anyone be unhappy when belting out “You got the best of my love” or “We are family”. Give me Kool and the Gang any day. If you’re ever in St. Paul and you pass a minivan rockin’ out to Classic disco, that would be me and the kids making the rounds.

I''m smart enough to know that I''m not particularly smart or talented. I don''t say this so that some kind soul out there rushes to say, "there, there, you are smart". Really I''m being honest. At best, I''m middle of the road smart. I''ve met some *scary* smart people in my time: multilingual individuals who get from step A to Z almost by intuition, people who have near photographic memories. Of course this always comes with some weird side affects like staggering social ineptitude. I guess this makes cogs in the wheel like me feel better.

Heck, at least I''m smart enough to know that I''m not that smart. I almost took a job one time for a powerful woman who was so stupid she didn''t even know she was stupid. Holy sh**, I wouldn''t even know where to break it down for her.

Yeah, I don''t have any overt talents either. I guess this makes me sort of "Ron Weasley" type. [Reader--it is o.k. to gasp at the overt geekiness of my interjecting a Harry Potter reference in relation to my real life.

I do have a junk yard dog mean work ethic and more heart than most. Yeah, I''ve got great love in my life and I don''t shirk the hard road. NOTE: If you are beset by a mental image of "Rudy" or "Rocky" at this point, you''ve gone too far.

While I''m very capable of taking care of most daily business, sadly I couldn''t even be considered a jack of all trades. I''m appallingly bad at anything mechanical and I can''t carry a tune in a bucket. Hell, I can''t even decide on a decent color of wall paint. The pictures posted at this website amaze me! 8)

Well, here''s hoping that my "winning" personality carries the day anyway.

That is enough disjointed confessions for today I must pretend to get some work done.

See you when I get back from Ohio. I''m sure I''ll have fresh MIL tales to tell.