Okay, I did. I looked back at my blog posts from Feb. 2009 and.....
Groaned. Giggled. Sighed. And giggled some more. I truly understood the phrase, "the more things change, the more they stay the same."
I had 12 posts that February. I began by sharing a story about, "The Bear That Roared", the tale of how my boyfriend (Hubby) tried to protect me from a bear that turned out to be...ah, read it yourself.
Several of the posts were about my rather unsuccessful attempt at vacationing. From job rejection (I was too qualified to escape the current job for the new one), lots of laundry, family tree research tied to Ireland/Scotland and the fact I had to return to work to take a CPR course.
My favorite post was about the day I wouldn't tell my Dad's Oncologist a joke. I'd told the joke to Dad, as he nervously waited on the latest cancer update and he cracked up. He wanted me to tell Doc, but I didn't find it "dignified" enough to tell. Doc actually sent a nurse in to corner me to tell HER the joke. Then he came in and told me it was funny and I should never hold back on funny jokes.
Feb. 14th wasn't just about love, it included some scientific study on why the number 7 is important. " The frontal cortex of the brain is designed so that it can only handle 7 things at a time. [I know ladies, I hear your heads shaking but that's what the study claimed]. The scientist went on to say that the brain is wired to remember "7, plus or minus 2". That's one of the reasons Social Security and phone numbers aren't any longer. The study cited that a group of average adults was split so that half of them were given a 5 digit number to remember and the rest were asked to remember their Social Security number. Before they were asked to repeat the numbers, all were sent down the hall and given a choice of a snack of fruit salad or chocolate cake. To a person, those with the fewer numbers to remember chose the cake, which the scientist claimed was due to the fact they still had "memory space" left to make a conscious choice. Those with the longer number either chose fruit salad....or came back without anything."
There was a challenge to use "L" words to describe myself: I included laughter, listening, logic, lavender, love and the last chocolate chip cookie, because it tastes the best.
There was a story about the estate sale of my 2nd grade teacher Miss Cotton, who encouraged my love of books. I bought 5 from her estate and the best title was, "The Truth Will Set You Free But First It Will Make You Miserable."
There were words to Pres. Obama, ironically telling him that we were on a road patrolled by deaf Congressmen, who were dooming us to repeat history's bad mistakes.
Tales of an Arthritis Exercise Class for us as "new" instructors and how none of us wanted to be there. From role play to being yelled at constantly to, "Stick to the book! Don't get creative!", I was doomed from the start. Taught one class and stopped it...because my "creative" side kept trying to raise it's ugly head.
And so on I roll, ten years later, still thinking some days (last week!) that I need a new job but in this weird economy better hold on. I'm at that awkward age, you see: too young for Social Security and too old to start over. Hard to be motivated by being told as a Director for a Sr. Center I'm viewed by those who hold the purse strings as, "a paid babysitter". Yeah, I put myself through college to earn that kind of boss.
That's okay. I still get to be creative. After all, I'm the Director...and the entire staff. :)