I try so hard to do the proper thing at all times.  I am such a serious person.  Having fun doesn’t sit well with me.  It makes me uncomfortable.  I came by it honestly.

I was taught all the rules of etiquette:

• Respect your elders
• Say please and thank you
• Never lie or cheat
• Greet people when they come to your home
• Say goodbye when they leave
• Help another in need
• Remember your family and friends
• And so on and on

My mother is a bit of a perfectionist so it’s no wonder that I am, too.  Her flower beds consist of plants in straight lines, as is her vegetable garden.  I try to digress but eventually I came back to the straight lines.  Everything seems to work better that way.

Whereas my mother is a neatnik, I am a slob.  I seem to have inherit from my father as well.  Though I fight that part with all my might, it is to no avail, of course.  But my neatness comes out in different ways.  When I am making cinnamon buns, I have to measure to see that the pastry is rolled out to be exactly 8″ x 15″.  And I have to cut each bun 1″ thick.  It is ridiculous to bring out my measuring tape to do so.  But having each bun the same size matters to this rigid part of me.

But I am trying to be a little freer, letting go of rules.  It does make me somewhat uncomfortable.  But I say to myself, uncomfortable is only a temporary state.  Let go.  Live on the wild side.  So nowadays my loaves of bread of not of equal size, nor are my cinnamon buns.  I am a little squirmy inside.  Sometimes I am a lot squirmy.  But I am letting my butterflies fly free.  I am not having fun yet but I feel some wings fluttering inside.  It is a beginning.