What I meant was . . .

First of all it’s 45 degrees and still climbing in Central Minnesota right now.  If I had my makeup on I’d make a little movie for you . . . but I don’t.  It’s unusually warm.  I have snow boots I bought this fall I haven’t worn yet.  Go figure.

Okay.  Have you even made a comment you that was a perfectly innocent statement of fact only to have your listener (or two) reel back in horror and proceed to tell you how wrong and short sighted you are?

I have.  Um, recently.  It feels awful.  I think the worse part about it is I thought my listener(s) knew me better than that — might have given me the benefit of the doubt.  Might have said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

No, I think the worst part of it was trying to tell this story to a dear friend through email today and making it more complicated by comparing the incident to a situation where I might actually have been short sighted.  My analogy was confusing and I have made it worse yet by sending 15 follow-up emails.  “No, what I meant is this . . . Do you see where I am heading . . . Let me give you another example.”  She hasn’t responded yet.  Maybe she’s fallen into coma.  Or more likely maybe she’s giving me a chance to settle down.

What is it about finding people who really understand us, or understand our intentions at least, that can make us so crazy?  I know I am not alone in this.

Sometimes we get so wounded we clam up and refuse to make friends.
Sometimes we make as many friends as they can so that we never have to be close to anyone.
Sometimes we say too much.
Sometimes we don’t say enough.
Sometimes we don’t give relationships enough of a chance.
Sometimes we hang on too long.

This is making my mind spin.  I am going to eat a leftover caramel and quit feeling sorry for myself.  Hooray for the healing powers of homemade candy.

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