On Being Me

If you've been reading this blog for even just a couple of weeks, you've most likely come to the conclusion that those words up there in my blog title are a fairly apt description of me. I am naive. I am far too trusting of people. And I most certainly am prone to repeating mistakes. I get burned and I go back for more. It's just who I am.

After giving it a lot of thought, I have decided that, even though I get bitten on the ass quite a lot, I'd rather be at this end of the spectrum than the other. After all, how much fun would I be if it said "Sophisticated, Suspicious, and Shrewd" up there?

Because I am always willing to provide you with a laugh at my expense, I will share the following example of my näiveté. It isn't going to do much to dispel the notion that I am a brainless twit, but here goes:

This morning, while playing outside, The Bean and I were observing the many mushrooms that have grown after the 3 days of torrential rains we experienced earlier this week. We left the back yard and walked around to the side of the house and "OH MY GOSH! MOMMY COME LOOK AT THIS! IT'S THE BIGGEST MUSHROOM EVER!" And it was. Humungous fungus! We're talking at least 8 inches high. Perfectly formed, too. We have stressed to the kids repeatedly DON'T TOUCH MUSHROOMS, but man, I wanted to because it was just so freaky. Of course, I couldn't very well do that in front of the kids.

You know what I was thinking at that moment, don't you? I am SO blogging this! I ran in and got my camera, and for perspective I had the kids kneel down next to it (but not touching it!) so that I could wow you all with this amazing phenomenon right in my very own yard! For good measure, I also took a picture with my husband's foot next to the Ripley's contender. (He wants you to know that he wears a 13 1/2.)

I rushed inside to transfer the pictures to my computer, and Big Foot asks "Are you blogging that?" "Of course!" Duh! He went outside, only to return moments later. "C'mere and take another look." What? Has it grown bigger? Should I call Channel 4?

It still looked the same, but he walked over, bent down, and reached for it. DON'T TOUCH DON'T TOUCH DON'T TOUCH! You're not supposed to tou...what the fuck?! He picked it up and rapped on it with his knuckles. The result was a nice hollow sound, much like you would get with, say, a garden statue. Huh...

And my dear husband says "I debated whether or not to tell you. Should I not have told you?"