Hello. SHE here.
After reading a comment by Julie which queried how Cara could possibly have put on such long jeans without noticing, there are a few things I would like to say.
Firstly, I highly doubt that the jeans were rolled up when Cara first pulled them on. I imagine, knowing Cara, that once she had pulled the jeans on, she may have wondered for a second whether her legs had shrunk or if her pant legs had stretched. That’s all. Then she would have proceeded to roll them up because whatever had happened, either her legs were now too short or the pants too long, she needed pants. Problem solved. I am 98% sure that this (if any) was the thought process as my longest pair of jeans became a rag.
Secondly, I’m okay with that. I’ve learned over the years that life with Cara is like that. It has actually become one of my great pleasures to discover that Cara’s brain doesn’t function quite like the rest of ours. After many years of wondering what might have been misfiring or which pathway in her brain may have been severed, I have decided (with certainty) that Cara’s brain is actually wired in such a manner that is far more efficient than mine-and likely, most others. Her brain is equipped with a unique map of shortcuts. Because of this, she has an advantage that I lack. Where you or I would spend time preparing an area in which to paint (tarps, rugs, cloths, etc.) and take time to seek out old, painting clothes, Cara makes it to the paintbrush AT LEAST 15 minutes ahead of us. Where you or I might follow a trail AROUND a swamp or bog to get to the other side, Cara sees a tree on the other side that she thinks would suit a piece of furniture, loses all interest in the trail and proceeds to trudge, in a bee line, through mud, water and moose poop towards said tree. I follow her. To be there when she falls. As she certainly will. And does. Enviously, I watch others head towards the tree along the dry, trodden path. 10 minutes later, upon arrival at the tree, wet to the bone and covered in a mud-poop slime, I realize that we got there well ahead of the trail walkers. I wonder, aloud, had she worried that the other folks would have seen and taken the tree had they gotten there first. Not at all, said she. She was just excited to inspect the tree. (NOTE: Gretel did not give ME rubber boots for Christmas)
On a final note, have you noticed the new packaging that baby carrots come in? It’s like a ziplock bag-resealable. Brilliant, right? The carrots won’t turn white too quickly and they won’t spill out in the fridge. Or so you’d like to believe. In Cara’s world, this packaging is nothing more than a nuisance. It apparently doesn’t allow her to reach in and grab the right carrot. What I want you to observe in the photo is that she didn't poke one, but TWO separate holes in this brilliant carrot bag and the zipper part of the bag has not been opened. EVER. Cara saw the carrot she wanted, tore through the bag and got it. PRESTO! You or I would have first sought out scissors (which could have been anywhere), cut the strip of plastic above the zipper, and then grabbed our carrots. In the meantime, Cara is done eating her carrots and is back to painting in my jeans. Genius. Nothing but genius.
So, after all of my observations and resignation that nothing I own will be untouched by paint, I decided long ago that I would keep her. What I haven’t mentioned is that I sort of have keep her as she knows all the passwords for everything. And she’s a really, REALLY good cook.
Firstly, I highly doubt that the jeans were rolled up when Cara first pulled them on. I imagine, knowing Cara, that once she had pulled the jeans on, she may have wondered for a second whether her legs had shrunk or if her pant legs had stretched. That’s all. Then she would have proceeded to roll them up because whatever had happened, either her legs were now too short or the pants too long, she needed pants. Problem solved. I am 98% sure that this (if any) was the thought process as my longest pair of jeans became a rag.
Secondly, I’m okay with that. I’ve learned over the years that life with Cara is like that. It has actually become one of my great pleasures to discover that Cara’s brain doesn’t function quite like the rest of ours. After many years of wondering what might have been misfiring or which pathway in her brain may have been severed, I have decided (with certainty) that Cara’s brain is actually wired in such a manner that is far more efficient than mine-and likely, most others. Her brain is equipped with a unique map of shortcuts. Because of this, she has an advantage that I lack. Where you or I would spend time preparing an area in which to paint (tarps, rugs, cloths, etc.) and take time to seek out old, painting clothes, Cara makes it to the paintbrush AT LEAST 15 minutes ahead of us. Where you or I might follow a trail AROUND a swamp or bog to get to the other side, Cara sees a tree on the other side that she thinks would suit a piece of furniture, loses all interest in the trail and proceeds to trudge, in a bee line, through mud, water and moose poop towards said tree. I follow her. To be there when she falls. As she certainly will. And does. Enviously, I watch others head towards the tree along the dry, trodden path. 10 minutes later, upon arrival at the tree, wet to the bone and covered in a mud-poop slime, I realize that we got there well ahead of the trail walkers. I wonder, aloud, had she worried that the other folks would have seen and taken the tree had they gotten there first. Not at all, said she. She was just excited to inspect the tree. (NOTE: Gretel did not give ME rubber boots for Christmas)
On a final note, have you noticed the new packaging that baby carrots come in? It’s like a ziplock bag-resealable. Brilliant, right? The carrots won’t turn white too quickly and they won’t spill out in the fridge. Or so you’d like to believe. In Cara’s world, this packaging is nothing more than a nuisance. It apparently doesn’t allow her to reach in and grab the right carrot. What I want you to observe in the photo is that she didn't poke one, but TWO separate holes in this brilliant carrot bag and the zipper part of the bag has not been opened. EVER. Cara saw the carrot she wanted, tore through the bag and got it. PRESTO! You or I would have first sought out scissors (which could have been anywhere), cut the strip of plastic above the zipper, and then grabbed our carrots. In the meantime, Cara is done eating her carrots and is back to painting in my jeans. Genius. Nothing but genius.
So, after all of my observations and resignation that nothing I own will be untouched by paint, I decided long ago that I would keep her. What I haven’t mentioned is that I sort of have keep her as she knows all the passwords for everything. And she’s a really, REALLY good cook.
1 comment:
Thanks for the explanation, Pam! And I am still laughing. I needed that.
I am afraid that my mind tends to operate somewhat like Cara's. Cut to the chase and never mind the prep work. Sometimes it works out but most often, it doesn't.
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