Tag

Apparently tagging is something that bloggers do. Being tagged means that someone has listed your blog on their blog and that others (who normally wouldn't) can view it. I've been tagged by Ruth, see the link for her blog below (she's a fantastic writer and I'm not just saying that). So, I've been tagged and asked to write 8 things that few would know about me, so here she goes:
1) I'm a southpaw and I defend my left handedness vigorously. I won't try and make my kiddos righties. I like that I'm a leftie and I think all that 'lefties die sooner' is a bunch of hooey. I just wish there were more notebooks for lefties so I didn't always have spiral marks all the way down my arm after writing. I'm just saying.
2) I really really really wanted to be a performer of some kind. Like a lounge singer who belted out Billie Holiday tunes or some sort of Edie Brickell/Liz Phair-ish singer who wailed on her guitar and made people in the audience say, 'Wow, that white girl can sing the blues and she's gnarly with the slide' or something like that. I'd then pepper some funnies in between songs, perhaps. I have two beautiful guitars and have started and stopped lessons so many times. When the babies are older, I keep telling myself...
3) I hate talking politics. It makes me uncomfortable. I'm not sure if it's because I feel like I'm not up to date enough or if it's because I feel like it's a personal thing...like religion or where people stand on the pro-choice or pro-life issue. My parents always voted and they made it a huge priority, and they would discuss any ballot issue or any other political issue with me. But who they voted for was personal and their private decision. I always thought that was interesting and kind of cool....like it was theirs, and they didn't have to share that part of themselves. Their bidness.
4) I used to be really funny about bathroom privacy. Like don't even walk past the bathroom and talk to me kind of weird. Don't ask me what I want to drink with dinner, 'I'll be out in a moment'. Don't tell me about some cool mail that just came in for me, 'I'll be out in a moment'. Don't tell me that my phone is ringing, 'I'll be out in a moment'. It used to crack my husband up, where I would get so ticked about it. I remember in my grandparents house there was a hard and fast rule....don't even WALK through the hallway unless you were going to the loo. It's about privacy, for goodness sake. Then I had kids, and it all flew out the window. I have no more moments, and I'm constantly on the watch for my toddler shaking the Excedrin bottle or putting my husband's shaving cream cap in her mouth. But I don't get irked anymore, it's just one of those things of my life as a singleton that I've kissed bye-bye to.

Eight things are a lot, I concur RD.

5) I have funky toenails. One big toenail that I swear to God I am having lasered off as soon as I'm done nursing. Take it right the hell off, blast the root o' podiatrist. It gets ingrown (time and time and time again) and I've had it removed (like with horrible, evil clippers that I think have horns and laugh at me and are far worse than some of the gadgets at the OB) a few times and the darn thing just won't die. The last time I had it 'trimmed down' I was pregnant with #2 and was nursing the first one, so the doc couldn't give me anything other than some 'cold shots' of air for the pain. He may as well have blown on it, because those shots didn't do a damn thing. It was ugly. He KISSED my toe when it was over, no joke. And said, 'I can't believe you let me do that to you'. Yes, he really said that.
6) A jellyfish stung my naughty bits. Summer of 1985, Ocean City Maryland. The place where sweet childhood memories were born, including a boardwalk that was a festival of lights and fried dough and thick cut french fries with peanut oil (I'll get to my food thing some other time). You could ride a wave with no boogie board, surfboard nonsense. Just body wave. I would be up to my armpit's in water, see a wave cresting and 30 seconds later have a mouthful of sand at the shoreline. It was fantastic and exhilirating and more fun than I can ever describe here. The kind of fun you have when you're not thinking about it, when it's just what 11 year olds do...they do and they don't think. A blessing and a curse there, I say. Anyway, there were some issues with jellyfish that summer, and I remember feeling something funny on the inside of my suit, on my left torso. I reached in and felt it, and it wormed it's way out. Down. And out. Yep, my cash and prizes, all stung. If that ain't a bitch, I don't know what is. I remember lying down spread-eagle on a bed with some sort of balm or salve or spray on it. Then I was afraid to go into the water. See? I got scared, so I stopped doing. Blessing and a curse.
7) I freak OUT around anything that can sting me (which I imagine could be rooted to the above sitch). I don't mean kind of scared or a little bothered, I mean I grab my hair and I run and dart and do all the things you should NEVER do when confronted with a stinging insect. It's totally embarassing, and I only hope that I'll knock it off when I remember that my little ones watch me and will undoubtedly follow suit. Did I mention that I got stung once on my privacy?
8) I'm a makeup artist. It's a bit of a shameless plug, too (do you know anyone getting married, going to prom? I give good face...) but I'll run with it. I started about 10 years ago, just putzing around and it's become a little business. I love it. Maybe it's that creative part of me that I didn't pursue with #2 somehow eeking it's way out?
Okay, phew. Here are some sites that I'm tagging, please check them out.
Ruth's blog, Weight loss/funny women blog, Funny chick blog, Drop the fork blog, similarly-named blog, and funny scrapbooking pal blog.