Now seems a good time to explain how-in-the-heck I came up with the title of my blog. Sadly, I must give all credit to my son (who is now almost 40). When he was a wee turd (around five or six) the word “flemsible” fell from his lips the first and last time. Those early years are so very formative, linguistically speaking, and he was struggling to find just the right word to express himself. It was then that it was obvious that he had inherited one of my most notable traits.

Throughout my life I’ve made up words. My mother dubbed them “Sherryisims.” They are words that fill in for words that, for my own specific reasons, either have not been invented yet — or when I simply can’t think of the word that already IS.

The little guy even used “flemsible” in the correct context! Further more, I knew exactly what the new word meant to his young mind. It was a combination of two other very common words…flexible and flimsy. And only time and maturity would teach me that my own son had actually described me.

My temperament has always been easy-going, to say the least. As a matter of fact, I realize now that my brain didn’t really “come into its own” until I was almost thirty! It was far too comfortable standing in Mom’s shadow (or the one cast by my ex-husband). Don’t misunderstand me here. Mom didn’t place the shadow over me but, in my mind, it was there! Afterall, She was a very strong, opinionated, talented, artistic woman about whom there was little or no gray area. People either instantly loved the eccentric person she was…or they didn’t. (It’s been said that I’m getting more and more like her as I age.) Regardless though, it’s confession time! I didn’t particularly like making my own decisions when I was a child and discovered that, if I hesitated long enough, Mom would eventually make them for me. Yeah, I was what might be called a ‘milk toast’? So flexible that I’d easily change my mind and so flimsy that I could often be swayed by the slightest breeze.

At the same time, I’ve always been very slow to anger (even to the point of being ridiculous). Easy going you could say. While still teaching, my compadres would often say, “Dickson won’t let it bother her. She doesn’t let anything get to her.” If the truth were known, that hasn’t changed much…but much of me has!

I now have my own opinions and, much like my mom, I often offer them, free of charge, to most anyone! The sad thing is that I’ve even been known to blurt them out to total strangers! When I do that, my sweet, tolerant husband simply tries to pretend that he doesn’t know me and that we’ve not been married for over 30 years.

So, that’s pretty much the story of Flemsibly Speaking. I’ve gone from being flemsible in many areas when little to being sometimes a bit too outspoken as a 63-year-old. I still try to avoid making some decisions. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. But, that’s OK. I’ve given myself permission to remain flemsible in some areas. After all…old age has its…perks.