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The Beauty of a Cool Pool of Drool


One thing that’s always perplexed me about how I must come across to other people is that they think I am some kind of “uppity bitch”, right out of central casting. If they only knew there is something lurking in my life script that would immediately debunk any potentially snotty image they are projecting onto me.


So here it is.


I drool.


Like a faucet.


We all have our crosses to bear. The stories I could tell about my most embarrassing moments throughout life almost all include the drool factor.


When my husband and I were dating, he invited me on our first out of town trip.


Romance was sizzling on the front burner. We were about to fly for several hours to our destination. As much as I hated to burst our boiling bubble, I knew I had to sit him down for a pre-emptive confession…..and own the more hideous aspects of my humanity before we took off.


That’s where the drooling becomes the worst. On planes. Don’t ask me how or why, but about two minutes after take-off, I fall sound asleep. I absolutely CANNOT stay awake. There is something about uncontrolled head bobbing mixed with eyes rolling backward while oozing saliva that can put the kibosh on the heat of the moment, if you know what I mean. He thought I was teasing.

For the next three hours, anyone walking down the aisle could have performed a tonsillectomy on me. You could have held a very dry plant under the corners of my mouth and it would have become nicely doused, revived to live another day.


Let’s just say, it was a very quiet ride to the hotel.

Fast forward to now…..


The other day, it was sleeting and icy in Dallas. The messy, bitterly cold conditions gridlocked and shut down the city. At least 6 million people got to stay home in their ratty bathrobes, old socks and comfy glasses for an unexpected day or two off.


I was one of those people, alternating between padding around the house, periodically checking the frig, to see if anything new and tempting had materialized since my last “viewing”. Nothing but the same week-old pimento cheese….sent me in search for a pile of magazines and books in order to pile up in bed for a marathon of page turning. Sitting up in bed with a stack of random stuff has the same effect on me as any seat on any aircraft.

I kept falling asleep——jolted awake——dreaming of ice skating. You guessed it, I had just turned over into a cold, congealed pool of drool. I chose to be fascinated instead of disgusted with this ongoing affliction….isn’t it amazing how our surroundings become incorporated into our dreams? That’s the moral to this story. We try so hard to put our best foot forward. We make sure we are buttoned and zipped up in the latest correct fashion. We try so hard to fit in and do the thing that might get us the most admiration.

But then. We drool.


Those of us who border on perfectionism need to experience those involuntary pool-of-drool moments as a wake-up call to be ready to laugh at ourselves. No dancing at the shame prom. Part of the rhythm of life is to make major missteps.

I always thought Matthew McConaughey was a versatile (and good looking) actor but I fell in love with him…..when he talked about his last trip to the bathroom before the Oscar night broadcast. He was up for BEST ACTOR. But before he could focus on what he hoped would be his acceptance speech, he had to handle first things first. One more trip to the bathroom was at the top of his list. This time it was for a booger check. Within his family, he had been known to blow his nose and leave debris hanging.


Alright, alright, alright.

As much as we try……we are forced to find ourselves H U M A N. We can really get ourselves in a twist about that very basic thing.


I heard a great quote once….can’t remember who said it….but it’s given me quite a bit of comfort on those days when I seem to be wearing my shoes on the wrong feet….feel free to quote it as if it were me, if you’d like.

Although my drool situation lives large at the top of my “Gnarly Bits” list, I do have a “Say-It-Isn’t-So” list with multiple entries. It’s long. Really, really long.


Let’s laugh at ourselves more, shall we?



 


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