A little game is going around the Internet where people are “tagged” and then they are asked to join in and write six random things about themselves on their blogs and then “tag” six other people who’ll write six random facts on their blogs, and so on. I’d watched from the sidelines for a few days and read the tagged responses, thoroughly entertained.
I’m one of those people who’ll take a personality quiz in a magazine, so when Andrea Charroin tagged me, I was in. (Bruce, on the other hand, commented across the room when I said I’d been tagged, “For Pete’s sake, it’s just a chain letter! I’d never do it.”
Good thing I’m not Bruce.
So here goes. Six random things about me:
1. I’ve expanded my rock collections to include pear-shaped rocks, not just hearts.
2. Sometimes my dreams come true. Most recently was a dream of a fuzzy cupcake, with a cherry on top. The next day friend Shannon gave me a knitted cupcake (hence, the fuzzy) with a cherry on top.
3. When I’m dozing off and entering the twilight zone, I can pick up where I left off on the previous night’s dream. (Last dream fact.)
4. I have an extreme aversion to touching raw cotton. I can’t handle flannel sheets, or the thought of those cheap, pilly cotton blankets touching my skin, or God forbid, snagging a hangnail. Seeing a cotton ball pulled apart is a million times worse than fingernails scratching a blackboard, and I have to use tweezers to extract cotton from pill bottles. My dentist can’t put cotton in my mouth, so he uses wooden sticks, instead. It’s not just me. My sisters and I share this cotton-hating weirdness, and so do our kids.
5. In 9th grade, for “Nova Wants to Know Day” students could choose almost any occupation to visit for a field trip. I chose a mortuary. Rudy Balma, then owner of the Redding Cemetery (think that’s what it was called then), led the tour. I was completely fascinated by everything, It helped demystify death for me (a little). We drank Orange Crush for refreshments.
6. The one and only thing in our newly constructed house that I took responsibility for doing was a tile “rug” in the entryway. But I’m so paralyzed by the permanency of tile and my artistic insecurities that I’ve done nothing. A real rug covers the bare spot that waits for me to do something there. Come November we’ll have been in the house three years.
Tag, you’re it:
Barbara R.
Steve B.
Celeste W.
Rocky S.
Kelly
Jill
(If Bruce had a blog I’d tag him.)
