get your own highlighter, whydontcha?

17 06 2010

My deliciously quirky Mema had a *thing* for self-help books. Of all kinds. From Nostradomus (sp) stuff, to the pre-Martha (godforbid, insert her trademark here) domestic goddesses of the 50’s, to even a how to please your man pamphlet from the 40’s that I ran across while going through everything before Mother’s Estate sale. (Now THAT, is worthy of a post of it’s own. HI-LAR-ious, I tell you. And kinda creepy. The pamphlet, I mean.  But I digress.)

In any case, combine her self-help fetish with a slight passive-aggressive streak, and you’d come home to find various and sundry books, with bookmarks and highlights strategically placed on your bed, car, etc.

Gee, Mema. Trying to tell me somethin’, are ya? *sigh*

The best had to be the little late 80’s Nancy Reagan era Just-Say-No propaganda number she’d scavenged up somewhere. Finding that bugger had to be no easy feat, being that we lived in a town whose population is still to this day smaller than my now current subdivision. (A great place to be, but at the same time it’s a little like living on an island– since everything has to be “brought in” from elsewhere. Except rice.)

It took me about a month to figure out why she thought I needed THAT particular missive. It wasn’t until mother came to me gingerly, wringing her hands, all concerned about some razor blade they’d found in my car.

Um, heh? OHHHH…. Sheesh. Settle down. I scraped the AARP sticker that Mema had on the car window before it became mine. (Tip: An AARP sticker doth not attract the eye of young squires. And if it does, then I’m skeered of dem boyz. Talk about Cubs after some Cougars, yowsa.)

The point of this little trip down memory lane, is that I just fired off a few copies of books to a couple far flung friends.

They weren’t self-help books, nor were any passages highlighted. Each reader can find their own bits that stand out for themselves. The book was merely a choice I enjoyed the hell out of, and I thought they might too– so I wanted to share. I’m cognizant enough to be super grateful that I don’t have to choose between doing that, and buying groceries or paying the light bill.

I even threw in a summer CD mix (confession: or TWO. There were too many good songs, I couldn’t cut back to fit on one CD.), just for grins. Why the hell not?

So I guess I’m channelling Mema a bit.

Minus the passive aggressive streak.

I hope.