Skip to main content

You can blame this one on Ed...

Ed is making me do a "six odd things about myself" post.

Ed can't really make me do things, but then again, clearly he can compel me since (a) I like Ed and (b) I'm avoiding the laundry (again).

Also I've lost track of times I've been tagged in the last six months and I thought maybe if I did this and sent it out with due respect to everyone who has tagged me and was utterly, rudely ignored by me, you might forgive me. Just a little.

The meme originally asked for six random things, but I don't believe there are random characteristics, only odd or quirky ones that perhaps you don't know.

So here we go:

1. If you are driving on the road with me I PROBABLY HATE YOU.

Most likely, you annoy me and your driving sucks and I will say so through my words and hand gestures, which have, in fact, come back to haunt me on those occasions when we pull into the same parking lot and I discover you are my daughter's classmate's parent, a coworker, a buddy, or my boss.

When I do this, in a stunted fashion, while the kids are in the car with me, it makes them laugh and laugh, probably because I sound like a Looney Tunes cartoon character (Sufferin' Succotash!) or a Charlie Brown adult (mwanh mwanh mwanh mwanh).

My oldest daughter calls it as she sees it, "There goes mom talking to the wall again!"

That's because one time she asked me who I was talking to and I said, "The wall probably!" in my typical cynical and annoyed way, I mean, my Car Self Way.

2. I have bone fragments in my spine from a car accident that cracked a vertebrae (in case you are wondering, that hurts. A lot.)

This probably completely explains number 1 above.

A moron who had been drinking slammed our car t-bone style at an intersection, crushing my side of the car and pushing us into oncoming traffic where we were then hit head-on. Everyone said we were lucky to be alive, and after a while---when the pain subsided and I wasn't facedown any longer---I believed it. Later, after the accident, the first time I drove, my first day back to work, still locked into a brace, an idiot cut me off, turned with no signal, and caused me to slam on my brakes, and two other cars to get into an accident. He merrily drove on, and I chased him down to his place of employment where I soundly berated him for being unsafe, and I may have told him people like him kill people like me. He was shocked and terrified, but not of his driving...of me, the crazy woman in a big brace. Who was yelling at him.

But just to reassure you, I am not a Road Rage person.

I listen to my Happy Music and Calm Mind techniques and endeavor to drive as little as possible.

I am ridiculously proud for not developing a phobia. So to speak. Note I say nothing about complexes.

3. If there is a non-automatic version of it, I will use it.

I drive a manual transmission car, use a hand-beater/mixer, prefer dials and knobs to digital, sharpen pencils by hand, like my bike, and so forth.

My air-conditioner dial is 40 years old and you will have to pry it from my cold dead fingers to get me to upgrade to something computerized and automatic.

I told my husband only today that I think people are ridiculously dependent on making machines do it for them.

I measure things by hand, add in my head or on paper, use a paper calendar, and avoid complicated phones as if they are death in disguise (and according to more than one study, they are).

That said, I might die without a computer, the Internet, air-conditioning, and my washing machine (the new kind, the low water energy efficient one). Oh, and my sonic toothbrush. That sounds dramatic but it just might be true.

4. Wrinkles in blankets and sheets will create a restless night for me.

It is probably psychotically disturbing to me to have the blankets and sheets wrinkled and askew. If I feel a wrinkle or lump with my feet or legs especially, I cannot settle down and sleep. I have been known to disturb my near-slumbering husband to get up and help me fix it, which he does because he knows otherwise nobody is getting 20 much less 40 winks in this house. He can't stand blankets tucked in at the foot of the bed, and I can't stand any drafts or breezes, thus must have them tucked in tightly. In fact, you can tell I was raised by an Army man because my beds are made so neatly and orderly that you probably could bounce a quarter off of them. And only you military sorts probably know what that means.

5. I am truly concerned about the shortage of Kosher meats.

No really, I am. I rely on it as a healthy---Kosher---food item. I don't keep Kosher but I definitely see the point to it so will often opt for a sort of Kosher.

I felt betrayed and angry when I found out a Kosher plant was not---GASP!---keeping Kosher, and I seriously wanted to know the name of the Rabbi who had been certifying it and access to a copy of his CV. Maybe also his bank account.

I was so appalled---a corrupted Rabbi.

I know, I'm not even Jewish and what does it say that I am super shocked to discover a corrupt rabbi when a corrupt Christian doesn't even cause me to blink.

6a. I'm a car singer, occasional car dancer, and I am training my children to do the same. This is one lesson that is taking.

I don't even try to hide it, especially if I have my iPod on, because it is loaded with good singing and dancing songs.

6b. I admit to missing albums.

Remember how it was a prestige thing that you had the order of songs memorized on an album? Kids today will never know that. They won't know A or B side songs, or the careful order of songs on an album that producers choose for specific reasons---which we all tried to determine.

Alas. Alack.

So I'm to tag six people but Ed made me see the demonic issue of a bunch of sixes in a row...therefore, if you read this and want to take it up for yourself please do!


Yolanda said…
We share numbers 1, 3 and 5. Number 2 was completely fascinating.
Mayberry said…
Re #2, you must check out Mildred Armstrong Kalish's Little Heathens. Fascinating read (memoir of farm life in Iowa during the Depression).
Magpie said…
Albums? Don't you mean records? That's what I call them, anyway.

Do you make the car dance too? By wiggling down the road? I do that sometimes.
flutter said…
Ed sounds a little evil!
cinnamon gurl said…
I share #3 and 6a with you, pretty much to the letter. Yay, car dancing.
Anonymous said…
1) I'm not Jewish, but I love kosher meats, too.

2) I'm afraid of my car's cruise control.

3) It's my 3 Year Blogiversary. Come by!
Unknown said…
I'm not one for new and improved, either. It's a little different for me - I'm not running away from automated, but I won't ever EVER replace something just to have a newer version. I actually won't replace something at all unless the duct tape has peeled off, and it just WON'T work anymore. Right now I have my husband's grandmother's electric mixer, and yesterday it started sounding funny. I may have to learn something about repairing electric mixers soon.

(This is Stephanie at across the gypsy flatroad, using my husband's computer.)
Emily said…
re: 6b. Records aren't dead. In Fact, "new" bands such as Radiohead have re-released some of their best albums on vinyl. Find yourself an indie record store and stock up! (Here in Dallas, it's Good Records. I'm gonna miss them when I'm gone.)
Road rage is just a form of defensive driving. My husband has road rage, and it embarasses me.
Anonymous said…
I'm with you on the sheets. My husband is 6'2 and hates to have the sheets tucked in. I am 5'0 and cannot stand the sheets to be flapping about. And we sing and dance in the car too. I plan on doing it forever, even when it embarrasses my sons. I figure that will keep me from having to drive them and their friends around.

Popular posts from this blog

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Quorum

After being confronted with written evidence, Julie admits that she is a total attention whore. In some things, in some ways, sometimes I look outward for validation of my worth and existence. I admit it. It's my weak spot, my vanity spot . If you say I am clever, comment on a post, offer me an award, mention me on your blog, reply to a comment I left on your blog, or in any way flatter me as a writer...I am hopelessly, slavishly devoted to you. I will probably even add you to my blogroll just so everyone can see the list of all the cool kids who actually like me . The girl, she knows she is vain in this regard , but after much vanity discussion and navel-gazing , she has decided to love herself anyway, as she is (ironically) and will keep searching for (1) internal validation and (2) her first person . Until I reach a better point of self-actualization, though, may I just say that this week you people have been better than prozac and chocolate (together, with a side of whi

In defense of vanity...I think

Do you have one of those issues where you argue with yourself? Where you just aren't sure what you actually think because there are so many messages and opinions on the topic around you? I have more than one like this. However, there is one topic that has been struggling to the top of my mind recently: vanity and perceived vanity. Can vanity be a good thing? Vanity has historically been truly reviled. Vanity is number seven of the Seven Deadly Sins. It's the doppleganger of number seven on the Seven Holy Virtues list: humility. There are many moralistic tales of how vanity makes you evil and brings about a spectacular downfall. Consider the lady who bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain her youth. Google Borgia+vanity and find plenty. The Brothers Grimm and Disney got in on the act too. The Disney message seems to be: the truly beautiful don't need to be vain. They are just naturally eye-catchingly gorgeous. And they are all gorgeous. Show me the Reubenesque Pr

Is your name yours? How your name affects your success...

Made by Andrea Micheloni Not too long ago I read What's in a name? by Veronica Mitchell. She'd read the NPR/USA Today article, Blame it on your name , that shared new research results: "a preference for our own names and initials — the 'name-letter effect' — can have some negative consequences." Veronica's post and that article got me thinking about names, and their importance. Changing to my husband’s name and shedding my maiden name was no love lost for me. By the time we married, I’d have gladly married any other name just for a change. My maiden name was a trial; I was sick of spelling it, pronouncing it, explaining it, and dealing with the thoughtless rude comments about it. My sister and I dreamed and planned for the day we could shed that name. So I wonder, sometimes, whether I adequately considered what a name change would actually mean. Heritage and genealogy matter to me and my maiden name reflected a great deal of familial history. Histo