Today Mommy Pie unwittingly reminded me that if I don’t get to Matter of Fact Mommy’s “10 Random Things” meme, Matter of Fact will kick my butt. Which she could totally do, as she is a soccer player and my butt closely resembles two (or six) overinflated soccer balls.
But I have a problem. I’ve told you everything already. There is NOTHING you do not know about me, including the fact that I poke my poo with sticks. So the following is just going to bore you. Still, I love MOFM and I’m afraid of her feet.
So here are my things.
- When I was 18, I had macular degeneration. Since people over 70 normally get this eye disease, I was a complete anomaly. My doctors termed me “idiopathic” (not the first time I’ve heard that applied to my person) and after a round or steroids and many tests, I had to have laser surgery on my eye. As a result, I am blind in the center of my right eye. I’m still paranoid that I’ll get macular degeneration in my “good” eye.
- I was your typical Catholic school girl. For 8 years, I wore the uniform, then even continued on to a Jesuit college (Marquette University). As a result, I’ve never taken any drugs other than pot, and didn’t have sex until I was 22. I can also count my sex partners on one hand. But I don’t think that’s because of Catholic school. I think that’s just the way I am.
- I have two “magic” bands that instantly make me happy. If I hear any of their songs play, it becomes physically impossible for me to whine, complain or be a general pain in the ass. These bands are The BoDeans (going to see them tomorrow night!) and the Indigo Girls. I’ve adored both since 1988. I’ve also stalked both. My IG autograph is one of my treasured possessions, and my backstage visits with the BoDeans will stay with me always. (NOT in a syphilis way either.) And bonus: if you’d like to hear a classic BoDeans song, try Still the Night. As for the Indigo Girls, take a listen to Fill it Up Again.
- I know this will come as a surprise, but I have an overactive imagination. I play out make believe scenarios in my head all the time, have pretend conversations, and just generally take the daydream bus. The below, I wrote in 2003, before I had kids.
While I was reading Possession and half-listening to MTV’s WWF 3, my brain imagined having my first child, whom I loved dearly. A boy, he was gangly but in a sweet gooby way, and we shared a special mother-son bond, often hanging out on the couch watching TV together, resting, neither one of us wanting to be somewhere else. He grew, and we’d go shopping and talk about his future. I always encouraged him to express himself (here, I briefly toyed with the idea of bringing him up non-denominational given that I’d recently attended a Seaside Church of Religious Science mass and really enjoyed it, then felt guilty and had bad dreams that night of evil infiltrations). Regardless of whether I finally decide to raise him Catholic or Seaside, he turns into the sort of man who has an unshakable belief in himself, and is quietly self-actualized. He has sandy brown hair and is lanky. He thinks I’m the best mom; is protective of me and calls me “mama” every so often, affectionately.
We go on this way until I get cancer, and he keeps vigil at my bedside with The Rock.
In there somewhere, I also calculated how long it would be until he could buy me really good presents (after he gets his first job, which would be creatively fulfilling yet well-paying). I decided I’d be about 58-59.
No lie: this whole daydream scenario took 2 minutes to play out…and the entire time I never took my eyes of my book or stopped listening to MTV.
So, I do that a lot.
- I cannot keep a pair of hoop earrings. Serious. The Universe takes them all away. I keep trying though. I bought three pairs a few months ago for security, and I now have only three earrings. The last hoop tumbled to its death over a patio railing when I was at happy hour with Mel. I tried to retrieve it from the dirt a while later, but gave up after I saw a dead mouse in the hoop’s last known location. Here’s a pic from that night. Note the complete and utter absence of hoop earrings.
Hello Boobs, Meet Table. Oh? I see you’ve already met.
- I bore Toots and Booger naturally. (That sounded weird) What I mean to say is that I was unmedicated during their births. And it hurt. But it turned out well in the end. Also, I’m not a hippie. I just hate spinal needles.
- I love clothes and even have a denim addiction. Yet, I cannot put outfits together. It’s a curse. My greatest superficial dream –aside from a never-ending supply of hoop earrings — is that I could hire a stylist. In fact, coming up here one of these days, I am going to ask all of you what to wear for my New York trip. I’m sure you’re chomping at the bit for that one.
Too clashy? Won’t work due to the 6-soccer-ball butt? Or because I’m not a ballerina? (pic from Anthropologie by the way)
- I love to entertain. Some of my greatest hits parties include “My Mom’s Recipes Party,” and the upcoming “Conversation Party,” where I force people who don’t know each other to talk. It’s gonna be great!
- I often pray that my mom will appear to me. I don’t know why she hasn’t yet. It makes me sad because I’d like to see her again.
- I’m pretty sure I was almost abducted by a cult when I was 15.
- Bonus #11: I like to end things on an ambivalent note.
As for those I’m tagging, I suck at that. So, let me just choose a few people I, or you, might like to know more about: the Cocktail Maven, Karelle at Tiny Little Bits and Pieces of Me, Chris at CSquaredPlus3, Da Goddess, and Karen at the Knit Geek’s Blog.
And I’d love anyone else who feels so inclined to do this too!