My oldest daughter, Peggy, has tagged me. (Thanks a lot, kid...) This means I have to write a blog telling six weird things about me. (Excuse me while I laugh my head off....). Then I have to tag six other bloggers, who have to do likewise...and so it goes. I don't KNOW six other bloggers personally. Maybe Mad Cabbie, but we've never met. And that's weird. I'll tag some of the Midwesterners and will post their stuff here cuz most of them do not have blogs.
1. I almost never answer my phone. On the day we left for France, Cathy was at my place encouraging me to pack faster, and the phone rang. She said "Your phone is ringing." I said, "Gee," and kept on packing. She said "How do you answer it?" (It's a special tty phone for deafies.) I said, "Pick it up and say hello." She did, and then she said somethingsomething and hung up. I said, "Who was it?" She said, "The Sierra Club." and I said, "See....that's why I don't answer it. It's always a telemarketer." Only three people ever call me on the phone to talk, and they always know to leave a message on the voice mail (which requires another TTY or a relay operator). I live in a parallel universe, and that's weird.
2. I can recite the first 10 lines of the Odyssey in Greek. I almost never do this when I'm sober.
3. In the convent I played the bass horn in our little German-type band--polkas, waltzes, schottisches..."Freut euch des Lebens, weil noch das Lämpchen glüht; pflücket die Rose, eh' sie verblüht!" Fun on those hot summer nights in St. Paul puffing on our horns and sweating under 3 yards of wool serge and a yard more of linen and voile around our heads.
4. I love to sing old show tunes. E.g., "I'm just a girl who can't say no. I'm in a terrible fix...." Like that. Cathy knows all the words to everything, and I can at least remember the tunes if they came out before the early 60s, so we sing in the car. Fun.
5. One time I ate a miller (you know, those big fat moths that hang out in cotoneaster bushes). There are LOTS of cotoneaster hedges in North Dakota and thus lots of millers flapping around. All my babies, when they crawled, used to grab them off the porch floor, stuff them in their mouths, and chew on them. I'd fish them out of their mouths and wonder why they seemed to enjoy them so. So I popped one in my mouth one time, too, and chewed. The teeny tiny scales on the outside were not pleasant...sort of like tasteless talcum powder, but once I got past the scales and into the meat, it tasted like....a cashew! Yum!
6. Peggy got her laundry folding obsession from me. I don't like the way anyone else folds my stuff. I did change how I folded my towels, though, after I visited Peggy the first time in England. Now I do the three-fold like she does.