The Donna meme! Well, I call it that because it sounds all respectable…I was tagged by the lovely Dazzlin’ Donna and, well, I do what she says because I’m a bit scared of her.
1.I spent my honeymoon on an archaeological dig in Crete. Since I was small (and shared a love of Nick Cave with the head physical anthropologist on the dig, oh and I also had a degree in anthropology), I got to spend a few days crammed down inside of an utterly claustrophobia-inducing space, gently brushing dirt away from bones. During this same trip, I am embarrassed to say that I might have been responsible for washing actual paint off loads of potsherds, in my zeal for the task and my lack of training for how to handle artifacts (I was more into the bones.)
2.I am not at all a fan of boats. I cannot stand them, actually, and this loathing happened during the ferry crossing from Crete (see above) back to the mainland of Greece at the end of the summer. I’m not sure what triggered it, but the idea of being on a boat fills me with terror. I’m convinced that the next boat I board will sink, and sink in shark-infested waters where I will have to choose between drowning intentionally and being torn apart by loads of mean mean sharks. I don’t even like the paddleboats at the park, but in the interest of being a good mother I will get in them, but I don’t have to like it!
3.I have a serious love of sitcoms from the 1980s, with a particular fondness for anything that Marla Gibbs has been in. “227”…my god what a show. I have also seen every “Golden Girls” and “Designing Women” show ever made, at least 10 times. Most recently, this truly tragic love of the 30 minute show has caused me to develop an unhealthy obsession with Judi Dench in “As Time Goes By.” I am a massive literary and film snob though, perhaps to counteract the love of the lowly sitcom.
4.I am eligible for membership in both the Daughters of the American Revolution and the Daughters of the Confederacy, although I’ve joined neither because apparently you have to do some socializing with the old guard, and I can’t be arsed, nor do I want to have stiff hair and have to wear pearls everywhere. It’s kind of awesome because the lineage for it is on my father’s side, so my mother is ineligible. Big ha there Pat! I am also 1/32 Cherokee, which explains my regal bearing and love of the drink.
5.My son Mason was born 2 months premature, with a few (yes, a few) large holes in his heart. He was eventually diagnosed with Tetralogy of Fallot (blue baby syndrome) and was in intensive care for 6 weeks after his birth. He was a bit over 3 lbs when he was born and needed to get to 10 lbs before he could have open heart surgery. During this waiting period, we couldn’t let him cry because he could have died from the exhaustion. He had open heart surgery when he was 10 months old (he’d already have inguinal hernia surgery a few days after being released from intensive care!) and is currently an insanely active and quite hyper 6 year old with an IQ in the 98th percentile. After the way he came into the world, I have every freaking right to brag about him. He’s also (hopefully) beaten juvenile rheumatoid arthritis in both knees and one ankle. Luckily my daughter Dylan has never had any issues other than a need for ear tubes. I have always had a low tolerance for crap, but after dealing with all of this and seeing how tough Mason is, I truly have no time for people who whine about completely stupid things (like a post being removed from Sphinn, poor things.) It’s given me a totally different perspective on what actually matters.
6.I am very, very clumsy. I open cabinet doors into my face, break at least one glass a week, am constantly covered in bruises and cuts, and can trip over the pattern in the linoleum. I wear a shirt for the first time and within minutes it’s torn/stained/on fire. I spill liquids to such an extent that, when everyone’s toasting, they know that I’ll set my glass down and they can ting it. I’m the person who picks up a pitcher to pour orange juice and the lid falls off, the orange juice ruins the lovely white tablecloth, and I’m asked to just please ask for assistance next time. In London every single time I boarded a bus, I ended up standing in the section clearly reserved for people with strollers or wheelchairs, then when someone with a stroller or in a wheelchair came on board, I fell over them trying to get out of the way. I once tried to grapevine (aerobics, you know) and almost dislocated both hips and knocked over a table. Oddly, I am the least clumsy when I’m drunk and in very high heels.
7.There are many things that I simply refuse to do for no valid reason whatsoever. This list includes but it is no way limited to pumping my own gas, going to the post office/bank, ordering anything that has the word “Biggie” in it, changing lanes to accommodate another driver, watching anything with Robert Urich in it, wearing white pants, supporting a Republican candidate even if I like him/her better than the Democratic choice, answering the phone, unloading the dishwasher, and referring to anyone as an African-American.
Now the dreaded tagging…and I’m doing 4 because I did 3 on the Jane meme so stop yelling.
