Trying my hand

29 January 2009

I thought it was time to try this thing called blogging. I have to confess that I don't read many blogs, mostly because I find them boring and too long.

There is also the back and forth of comments. People who have nothing better to do than get really bent over some totally insignificant thing. I always end up wishing they would put their energy to something more worthwhile. What?! This site is named Random Thoughts in Middle Age.

So, I'm going to give this a try and see how my attention span holds up to it.

What are my angles?

I'm hopelessly addicted to America's Next Top Model. What?! There's no accounting for taste, I can't explain it. As a 51 year old feminist I should be appalled but somehow I find myself helplessly compelled to watch and even find myself voicing advice to contestants on the show. Not to mention the bewilderment I throw at the panel for decisions they make from time to time.

Anyway, never having been in a position where I had to be ever aware of how I am presenting myself to camera, I'm totally perplexed by the panel's constant advice to these girls that they have to know their angles. I'm assuming this means something to the girls, but I'm lost.

But got me thinking... what are my angles?

• The angle at which I can eat at my desk and not have everything end up on my shirt front


• The angle I have to twist into to reach the roasting pan I use 3 or 4 times a year in the back of my cabinet


• The angles I have to play to guilt my daughter into sending new photos of my only grandchild

As I think about it there have been a lot of angles I've had to maintain through the years of my life. Growing up there was the perfect angle at which you had to hold the rabbit ears on the TV to get enough reception to see your favorite show through the snow on the screen. I never saw an episode of Star Trek with a clear picture until I was in my 30's and we got cable.

There was the exacting angle you had to maintain while shifting into second gear on our car as teens. It was the car all three of us shared in our teen years. The one we never had a battery for. It took half the kids on the block to push start it.

The angle you had to hold the babies as you walked the floor in the middle of the night to keep them pacified so they could fall to sleep. How many mile did I walk?

So, even thought I have no real idea of the angles Tyra and her panel are talking about, I guess I do have a few angles in my life.