Deadly With A Peach

Someone recently told me they couldn’t imagine me getting angry and that I seem very soft spoken.

I told them people would laugh about both and they said it was hard to believe. When they pushed for an example of my not being patient, unkind and ornery I said I had a few examples.

“I met a guy a while back who is several inches taller than I am. For a moment I thought he was trying to look down upon me and then we shook hands and I realized he had tiny hands that felt fragile like¬† they belonged on a woman.

I almost laughed at him and I couldn’t help but crush his hand a bit in mine. It is juvenile, but he brought it out of me.”

The person on the other side of the line snorted and said I hadn’t done anything particularly bad or mean.

I said it wasn’t entirely true, I have a few skeletons and shared that I am deadly with a peach. Not that it matters, but I have always had a good arm so I could throw a rock or baseball and say I am deadly but neither are part of this story.

Don’t Ask Me

They asked me to read an email and got upset when I said I wouldn’t send it.

“I don’t think you want to send this. It doesn’t make sense and I don’t know what you are saying. That is bad because I know what you’re trying to say and I can’t follow your line of thinking.”

There was a pause followed by an edgy “I think it is fine. You’re trying to to make it sound like you.”

“No, I am really not. I probably write more often than most people you know. It should have a beginning, middle and end but this doesn’t. If you fix that you’ll save yourself some aggravation on the other side.”

There was a pause followed by a sigh and “I guess you are right.”

It almost made me laugh because they had no idea how nice I was about it. That last line can be used to say people lack self awareness but I was extra cautious about being kind.

Having worked more than once as an editor I know how to express criticism in a softer way that is considered good coaching.

But that is neither here nor there really, it is just meandering by me.

I could have said not to ask me if your clothes make you look fat/stupid unless you are prepared for an honest answer. I won’t intentionally be harsh, but I will tell you if I think there are better options.

Don’t have time to play games and to pretend you don’t look like a stuffed sausage when you do.

****

Back in the recitation of ways in which I have not been nice or patient I elucidate about the peach.

The story, which I think has been told here involves a younger boy taunting me and claiming I couldn’t possibly hit him with a peach while he rode his bike back and forth across the street.

I missed on the first throw and partially connected on the second. He made a big deal about that not recognizing I had figured out the timing.

And then I was the jerk who pegged him with a peach in the side of the head.

It was wrong and though I apologized then I feel badly now that I didn’t have the good sense not to do it.

Was a mistake, even if I did a hell of a job. And speaking of hell if it happened to my kid I would have raised it.

That is probably why I am more irritated about it now, but I can’t go back. I own that I was a jerk that one time.

Still don’t feel badly about squeezing lady fingers’ hand. What is the point of being over 6 feet and supposedly male if you got feminine hands.

Yeah, I know it is not nice and maybe he has a great personality to compensate for stealing his mom’s hands for himself.

Family Hands

My daughter complains that her hands look like mine. I pull out this picture and say they might look like Grandpa’s but she doesn’t appreciate it.

Some people describe me as having stubby fingers or paws, neither bothers me.

My hands are my hands and we really don’t get a choice in how big or how small ours are now do we.

I recognize that to a certain extent we have to be happy with what we have because there aren’t many options.

Maybe lady hands doesn’t care about his fragile fingers and maybe I am being mean. I could grab a peach and throw it at his head and leave no doubt about being mean.

It wouldn’t be as mean as recording the thump it would make or trying to confirm whether there would be a loud hollow noise after.

I have other thoughts but I am feeling feisty and instead of emptying out my head here on the mouth of the muse of the page I’ll just shut it down and write elsewhere or go do something.

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