The other day I had an epiphany of sorts.
I tagged along with my parents and attended a casual group dinner event at Your Home-based Mom's house. I also made the salad we had been assigned to bring. I decided to make fattoush (Lebanese Salad) because it would be different, and because I knew I wouldn't mess it up because I make it all the time at home.
Not messing up the food dish was important to me because YHBM is, like, FAMOUS. I felt so nervous to be bringing my lame, humble food for her (and the guests) to eat. I also kind of felt self-conscious about what I was wearing because she has a fantastic sense of fashion (as does her daughter).
So I spent a while before the dinner being nervous about the food, and my clothes, and the judgment that YHBM was sure to pass on me...and then I realized how ridiculous I was being. I'm sure, so sure, that the wonderful woman who is YHBM does not spend every waking hour "on the job," scrutinizing friends' recipes and passers'-by outfits. So I took a deep breath and relaxed and made the fattoush how I always do and wore what I wanted to.
The epiphany I mentioned earlier came when I finally understood how it is that some people mention to me (in person or by email) that they're "afraid" (or hesitant) to comment on my blog, or write an email to me because they're worried that their grammar isn't perfect. This has always at once surprised me and made me feel horrible. I promise that as snarky as I sometimes (unintentionally) get about grammar or word choice or baby names or spelling, I do not pass judgment on friends OR strangers who communicate with me, in any form, whether earnestly or casually. I do not sit at my computer just waiting to catch out mistakes as they enter my Gmail inbox. Really. I'm sure I've not always maintained the distinction perfectly, but I try to reserve scorn of poor English for the most egregious cases in the most inexcusable contexts. Blog comments and personal emails will never, ever fit that bill.
Really.
I tagged along with my parents and attended a casual group dinner event at Your Home-based Mom's house. I also made the salad we had been assigned to bring. I decided to make fattoush (Lebanese Salad) because it would be different, and because I knew I wouldn't mess it up because I make it all the time at home.
Not messing up the food dish was important to me because YHBM is, like, FAMOUS. I felt so nervous to be bringing my lame, humble food for her (and the guests) to eat. I also kind of felt self-conscious about what I was wearing because she has a fantastic sense of fashion (as does her daughter).
So I spent a while before the dinner being nervous about the food, and my clothes, and the judgment that YHBM was sure to pass on me...and then I realized how ridiculous I was being. I'm sure, so sure, that the wonderful woman who is YHBM does not spend every waking hour "on the job," scrutinizing friends' recipes and passers'-by outfits. So I took a deep breath and relaxed and made the fattoush how I always do and wore what I wanted to.
The epiphany I mentioned earlier came when I finally understood how it is that some people mention to me (in person or by email) that they're "afraid" (or hesitant) to comment on my blog, or write an email to me because they're worried that their grammar isn't perfect. This has always at once surprised me and made me feel horrible. I promise that as snarky as I sometimes (unintentionally) get about grammar or word choice or baby names or spelling, I do not pass judgment on friends OR strangers who communicate with me, in any form, whether earnestly or casually. I do not sit at my computer just waiting to catch out mistakes as they enter my Gmail inbox. Really. I'm sure I've not always maintained the distinction perfectly, but I try to reserve scorn of poor English for the most egregious cases in the most inexcusable contexts. Blog comments and personal emails will never, ever fit that bill.
Really.