The Sage

My friend, Robert, wrote me to tell me that while packing for an upcoming move, he came across a book about Photography that I loaned him over a year ago. Apparently, during a subsequent conversation about borrowing and returning objects, I had said that I wasn’t any rush to get it back, but that he shouldn’t move with it.

I was surprised to hear that I had specifically advised against that. Although its sound advice, it’s not something that might come to my mind these days. But then again, I’m not surprised that I gave that recommendation I do love to give advice, suggestions, alternatives, etc. about pretty much anything.

“Always make the bed with hospital corners.”
“You should try putting cumin and nutmeg in your spinach.”
“You have a headache, eh. Are you dehydrated? Maybe you should try drinking water.”
“Here’s a great shortcut to the theatre.”
“A good iron and ironing board is a great investment.”
“I have the payroll clerk wire money into my savings account before I see it. That way I don’t miss it.”
“You should watch The Wire. It’s the best kept secret on the boob tube.”

Not only is this surely annoying, but also it often results with me having to put my foot in my mouth. More than once have I been caught red handed by friends who tell me that I once recommended a certain course of action, despite the fact that I myself have never done things said way.

“Practice what you preach.”

I certainly don’t follow that one. Case in Point #1

Carrie: Why are you putting the pillow cases on the pillows in that odd fashion?
Fiancé: Because you told me to do it that way.
Carrie: Really? When?
Fiancé: Last year. When we first moved in.
Carrie: Oh, that's smart. I'll have to start doing it that way.

Case in Point #2

Friend: I think of you every time I put on my mascara.
Carrie: Oh yeah? How come?
Friend: Because in high school, when you were doing my make-up, you told me that you should always put mascara on both sides of your top lash line.
That way, when you blink or look down your lashes are dark on both sides. And they look thicker.
Carrie: Really? I’ve seen that done before, but I haven’t done that in a while. I should start trying that!

(It really works, by the way.)

It’s no surprise that I’ve turned out like this. I’ve always been bossy. “A Leader” as my gifted specialist mother would say. And I have always been fascinated with “How To”. Saturday morning cartoons were for babies; I watched Bob Villa’s “This Old House”, Bob Ross’s “Joy of Painting” and “Quilting” by that lady who talked like she had had a stroke. Afterwards, I used to hole myself up in my bedroom for hours, pretending I was on a DIY television show about any number of activities:

How to Clean up Your Room
How to Decorate Your Wicker Trunk as if it were on the Cover of a Holiday Card
How to Write Carbon Copies of Things Like That Secretary in Granddaddy’s Office.

Put me in the kitchen and I was a regular TV chef:

How to Scoop Mashed Potatoes with an Ice Cream Scoop Like They Do at School
How to Put Spices in Little Bowls Like They Do in Cooking Shows
How to Cut Cucumbers Like You Learned From Your Aunt

And it didn’t stop in the bathroom:

How To Wash Your Hair Correctly
How To Make Tonics Out of Things in Your Mom’s Medicine Cabinet
Bathroom Safety: How To.

So I am not to blame, you see. It was my upbringing. For as long as I can remember, giving advice has been programmed in my brain.

“Don’t make excuses for yourself. Just own up to your faults.”

Yeah. Right.