I hooked up with my Texas women's cult last night.
I had looked for phone numbers in the city's fat phonebook earlier this week and found only one of them listed. After a tongue lashing for "friendship negligence" she immediately suggested an impromptu dinner gathering so we could all catch up.
Rejuvenated, I hung up the phone and anticipated a real meal.
There's seems to be a discrepancy in this apartment as to what qualifies as a meal. The kitchen IS small and the cooking utensils limited. But I am bound and determined to find a small rice cooker--so I can demonstrate adaptability and acceptance.
I have a bit of trouble with acceptance--so she gets it honest. I taught her to treat people fairly and be honest so you start each day with a clear conscience. But I failed to effectively cover the finer points of interaction with those individuals who are somewhat unfamiliar with these concepts. But, I'm still dealing with that one myself.
Honesty is a tough one. Human nature makes us see what we want to see and hear what we want to hear. And perhaps to have a tendency to say what we think the other person wants to hear. It's just easier and causes fewer uncomfortable situations.
I've always been accused of blunt honesty. However, here lately, I open my mouth and my brain is still sorting out the proper words.
My daughter hasn't hesitated to bring this to my attention on several occasions. She's a bit impatient, like her mother.
As I maneuver through midlife, I realize it is more important to choose your words carefully. The message gets across in a very diplomatic sense and there! It's on the table. It's like labor's deep cleansing breath.
And just like the end result of labor, it creates a much different world.