Cee’s questions this week come from Club Introvert (read all about it on 61 Musings).
Describe yourself in a word that starts with the first letter of your name.
Disobedient. For example, I’m not gong to stick to just one word for this reply.
I like to think of myself as dégagé, but when feeling a little depaysé chances are I could be described as détraqué. I am prone to dysania. Being mom to a posse of dogs, cats, fish and involuntary host to random wild critturs, some people might describe me as a dompteuse.
At work I am duteous and diligent and there are days when I am determined, driven, and decisive. In my free time I can be a dilettante. Some might say I can be quite droll. But I’m never docile.
If 100 people your age were chosen at random, how many do you think you’d find leading a more satisfying life than yours?
That is not an easy to question to answer. Where will they be randomly chosen from? Locally, where there is a chance their lives would be similar to my own, or from a broader area? Would they all have a similar income bracket? Same gender or mixed? Immigrants or native to my country? What is their measure of satisfaction – if known, is it the same as mine?
Moral of this story – when you ask an Irish person a question, you are very likely to find yourself at the receiving end of a friendly interrogation before you get your answer.
If you were a tree, would you become a book or furniture? Please describe.
This is a lovely, wacky question. I like the way Chris at 61 Musings thinks.
My first thought on this is that it would be infinitely preferable to remain as a tree. The idea of being chopped down and cut up into pieces to make furniture really does not appeal to me. Being squished up into paper pulp also sounds awful, but you know what? I’d be pretty much beyond caring by the time I got to that stage.
If I could skip that horror story and be magically transformed into either furniture or a book, I think I’d like to be a book. The sort of book that would be appreciated, of course, for example I have a little A8-sized book with a beautiful acid-etched wood cover, gold leaf print and gorgeous illustrations of flowers.
Printed in 1873, it belonged to my great-aunt. My memory of her is as a very old, genteel lady with a head of thick, beautiful white hair, who always wore a long black dress. She sat by the fire in my Grandad’s big old-fashioned kitchen and held court. Her fiancé was killed in the Crimean War, around 20 years before this book was published. I don’t know if she bought it or if it was a gift, but she explained to 6 year old me that it was the only romantic thing she had.
You are trapped in an elevator, who would you want to be trapped with?
Somebody who is capable of interesting conversation and is not inclined to panic, please!
Harking back to SYW Week 3 and a little fun I had with American vs. English English – it’s more likely that I would be trapped in a lift (my niece @urbanfoxe moved to New York a couple of years ago and is still struggling with the differences –as a mom, she is having a real crisis of conscience every time she checks her kids homework).
Bonus question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
I’m still loving the ever-brightening days. Next week is St. Patrick’s Day, which means there is a national holiday on Monday.
NB, for all my non-Irish WordPress friends, please, please, please, spread the word:
To explain: Patty is a girl’s name. St Patrick was a boy. And don’t forget folks – drown that shamrock.