My Value

My value is best found in the eyes of others for I cannot know myself that well. I've tried to figure it out for myself, but luckily, am self-blind. I say luckily, because if I knew myself well enough to know my value, then I'd also know myself to figure out where I am without value. I'm not sure I want to know that.

I am valuable to others as a source of information.
I am valuable to others as a source of motivation. I rescue people from their lives by letting them know how capable they really are.  One example, when someone is declared dead by a family member, I let them know they should enjoy it as long as possible. They won't be dead forever, and every time they are declared dead by a manipulating family member, the length of time will be less. Manipulation of that sort by overbearing family is a nasty habit some families fall into. I've seen heads cut out of pictures and mailed to a person. Really. Too silly for words isn't it. Anyway, imagine the peace and quiet you can get from not being talked to by such a manipulator!

I am valuable to myself because I can amuse myself endlessly on very little. One thing I like to do is run little experiments. I now know how a dust bunny forms. Where the most likely place to find them is, and what they're made of. The hot popcorn kernal that melted its way into the kitchen linoleum was removed after three years due to my elder daughter's highly honed sense of what is right and proper. I was watching to see how well the hard little sucker would take the wear of daily traffic. Amazingly, it came out almost as perfect as the day it went in.

My greatest strength, I'm not sure, but it may be an utter lack of patience. I see no reason to wait two years, like a friend of mine did, for her husband to install a new toilet. I'd have had it installed myself within a couple of weeks, if I had waited that long. I see no reason why a person doesn't do what they want done instead of waiting for someone else to do it because it is 'a man's job' or 'a woman's job'.  Really?  Who wants it done? Just do it!  I get such shocked looks, but really, it isn't that hard to find your way around a hardware store or get instructions on how to do things.  It took me three different instruction books before I could figure out how to make pin lace. It took three books because I had to find the right book to get it through my head.  Why did I want to make pin lace? Because it looked really cool and the person performing it said it took her three years to learn as an apprentice. If so, she was a slow learner....

My greatest weakness. Thank God I don't know what it is. I have many. I try to not examine them closely. And then came Pat with her questions. I thought about it and decided I didn't want to look. Got other things to do...I'm sure I do...somewhere...something.....


Pat Davids said...

Seriously? Someone in your family mailed cut out picture heads to someone else? That's creepy. What a great character trait for someone in a book!

Nina, I'm so tickled to see you blogging again. You always crack me up, make me think, and go Wow.

Did you list yourself as having value as a writer? You do.

I agree, you can figure out your weakness someother day. Works for me. I'm the princess of procastination.

Nina said...

No, I didn't count my value as a writer, because I didn't think of it. And my writing value is so subjective to the reader. For example: I like it, but my mother-in-law said she'd burned better. Same book, I got a call from a total stranger who said it had changed her life.
I like the creating of it--that is fun!!
The picture cut out and dead thing--Not my family, but in two others I have met members of and a third that just declared, "You're dead to me." to a daughter. Actually,two were daughters and one granddaughter. And guess what? They are currently all three alive. The peace and quiet didn't last all that long. One person's first dead time lasted 13 months. The second time she was dead was only a couple of months. She hasn't been dead a third time and the last was 12 years ago. As soon as the declaring person finds out you could give a rat's tail about being dead and you don't call and beg forgiveness for whatever slight the offended party is offended over, things start evening out fairly quickly. About the time they need something, you'll be alive again. When the first person looked at me with tears streaming and showed me the pictures, what can you say to them except how lucky they are. Again, that blank look. But really, how lucky can you be to be having such a person not talking to you and picking you to pieces? Enjoy it while it lasts.
I'd read about such behavior, but never believed people would actually do it. They do. I don't know what a shrink would tell a person to do, but hey, I'm no shrink. I just don't like emotional blackmail wherever it is.

Nina said...

I should also say, since anyone might read this and decide to act upon it, that I don't recommend anyone return the favor and declare someone dead in retaliation. Nope. Just go on and do as you would normally about birthday cards and presents and whatever. Just don't go over or call until they contact you.

I've also been tossed out of our scale house by my sister-in-law who I'd angered at a meeting. My brother-in-law looked a little sick and asked how I intended to handle things. I told him everyone has the right to get a bit bent once in a while and not to worry, I'd be back later, but let's give her a few days. We have a good relationship at this time. She never mentioned the moment, nor did I. I can't remember what it was about.

Penny Rader said...

I'm so glad you're posting again, Nina!

Btw, what is a scale house?

Nina Sipes said...

Thanks, Penny.
A scale house is a building beside a set of scales that are outside that trucks are weighed upon. The balance beam or now digital readouts are in the building. The scale tickets are stamped with weights of the truck as empty-tare weight, then full, or gross weight, and then the net is figured. The weight of grain, for example is different for each grain per a bushel. Bushels are volume as in a Bushel basket. However, wheat is 60 pounds to the bushel. Then, because wheat quality varies, it can be nice and heavy or scraggly and light. (We're talking about the wheat kernels, not the wavy field) Then the wheat must also be test-weighted. So, great wheat might be 64 pounds to the bushel and light wheat might be 52 pounds. What difference does this make? Because trucks only hold so much volume, and so much weight. Heavy wheat, weighing 64 pounds cannot be a full load per volume on the truck because the weight would break the axles. 52 pound wheat could be flowing over the top and not break the axles.
We use our scale house for an office too, with offices, record storage, meals for field personnel during harvest, and breaks. We're 22 miles from town and have to have some bit of facilities for everything that goes on down here. I live a mile from the scale house.

Reese Mobley said...

Popcorn in your flooring and leaving dust bunnies to study them. We must be soul sisters.

Joan Vincent said...

Nina, Welcome back to the blog. I've missed your posts. They always inform and make me think as well as amuse. I tend to see my weaknesses much more than my strengths. You have many strengths --being a good writer is one of them.

Nina Sipes said...

Well, Reese, what experiments are you willing to own up to? Hmmmm?

Nina Sipes said...

How kind you are to say such lovely things when I admire your fortitude and imagination immensely. And your stories. And I'm glad you've got a very determined sister who believes in you.