Getting To Know You...

I keep saying that I'm not a 'people' person, and I'm getting really tired of people not believing me. Okay, it's about now that I need to stop for a few minutes to let my friend, Katy, quit laughing and clean up the mess she just made....
In all fairness, to me, I was raised by the most 'least likely to brake for children or the elderly' person that has ever lived, so I do come by it naturally. The only time my mom ever said anything nice about anyone was when, wait...nope, I've got nothing.
Now, before you jump to the conclusion that I must take after my mom...let me just stop you right there. I don't. I don't dislike people, I just dislike being around them. I rarely meet someone I don't like, I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. However, that doesn't mean I want to be around them. I recently posted about my three best friends, and how blessed I am to have them. One of the things that makes these three my closest friends is that they accept my honesty without confusing it with bitchiness. Now, when Katy lived here before moving to Ohio about 5 years ago, she would often stand up to me more than most. When I told her I didn't want to do something, she'd sometimes threaten me. When I said I didn't want any help with something, she'd show up anyway. No matter how much I shook my stick at her, she wouldn't run away. My best friend, ever. Don't let that lead you to believe that she doesn't, on occasion, drive me absolutely crazy cause she has and can...but she can also make me laugh harder than anyone I know. And as much as I hate to admit it, I miss her. (Get over it, Katy)

I have a cruel streak, occasionally, and a very dry (or sick) sense of humor. That's just who I am. If you can't laugh at me, stay away. If you can't take me seriously, stay away. See my point here...just stay away. It's a theme with me.

I'm getting so off point here it's going to take a slew of dogs to find my way back.
Oh yeah...I have a neighbor that has Pampered Chef parties. One, I hate parties. It's true, I do. Two, I don't cook. It's true, I don't. Three, I don't eat after anyone but my husband. It's true, I won't. So, three good reasons not to go to these Pampered Chef parties. However, one good reason to go...I love my neighbor. I've never socialized with her other than at her house, in her yard...that sort of thing. But they don't come any sweeter. So, okay, knowing her financial circumstances, I don't mind helping out. Just wish I could write her a monthly check, though, and skip the whole party thing. I have come home with some really great kitchen tools though, like the ice cream scoop that warms up when you touch it. And the heavy duty cooling rack, that when I saw it I thought 'that would be great to put my computer monitor on' and it's perfect. So, I can actually spend money on anything, apparently. But, once I go to her parties, I'm always glad I've gone. Her friends are just as nice as she is, and they don't embarrass all that easily, which works great with my personality. Plus, Mark always gets some great new cooking tools. I don't always remember what it was you're suppose to do with them by the time we get them, but Mark can usually figure it out.
And her house is always so spotless, that she's one of the few people whose cooking I'll eat. At her parties, she always fixes something using the utensils that she sells, letting people at the party assist. She always hands them a bottle of hand sanitizer before letting them touch the food or the utensils, how smart is that? I've always passed on assisting with the cooking. I don't like to touch raw stuff and she always makes a vegetarian dish for me...which in itself makes me feel obligated to go...but it's okay. As much as I always dread the party, I'm always glad I went.

Before Katy moved away, she always made me go to Bunko parties (am I spelling it right?). These were always pure hell for me. She'll argue that point, she'll say I enjoyed them once I got there...but she'll be wrong. You're wrong, Katy!! Remember the time I came out of the bathroom with the trail of toilet paper hanging out of the top of my jeans and dangling down to my knees in front of all your friends??? Well, that's the feeling I have when I'm around strangers, all the time. I simply don't enjoy it. I've never been to one of my high school reunions, I've never met anyone in PTA (go alone, sit alone, leave quickly) and the same for church. My kids and husband, fortunately, are not like me at all when it comes to being 'people shy', but they understand and accept me. When people I know show up at my house unexpected, I step outside to talk to them. I love to go to the movies alone, I have no problem eating in a restaurant alone and I can, I have and I enjoy going on vacations alone.

What amazes me is how I continue to have wonderful friends. Saints, each and every one of them. Except for the times that they're a pain in my butt.

My thought behind this post, at the beginning anyway, was that when I say I don't want to 'go' somewhere or 'do' something, don't take it personally. Don't take it upon yourself to change who I am. Don't take it for granted that I must not like you (of course, there is always that possibility). Just take it for what it is, that I'm not a people person. I'm not alone, there are others like me. We're not bad people, we're not 'unfriendly' or anti-social. We're just people doing the best that we can with what we've got to work with, mentally and emotionally. You want someone to hang out with, shop with, talk to on the phone every single day (or even weekly, lol), you really need to look elsewhere. But if I say I love you, I mean it. If I say I've missed you, I mean it. If I give you a hug, darlin, I mean it completely.

If you're wondering what was behind this post, and I wouldn't blame you, it's this: Friends don't change friends, they add to who they are and they accept, even appreciate, who they are.