That’s me, at two, or so, trying to oh so subtly lift the tea cakes out of my Great Grandma’s cookie jar. Who puts cookies in a toddler’s reach anyway?
I’ve been tagged, again, to list 8 random things about myself. I find this enormously funny because seriously, most everything about me is random, so picking 8 to share with the thousands of riveted readers that visit my little blog everyday (go back and read that as dripping with snarkiness) is like saying, “Gee Stef, show me the 8 most interesting of all the hairs on your head.” I’ve got an endless supply of randomness people, but I can’t imagine why knowing any of it is worth a spoonful of spit.
You made your bed though, so here ya go:
1) There are two kinds of people in this world, The Nancy Drew type, and the Trixie Belden type. I was definitely the latter. She was sneaky, always falling backwards into trouble, forgetful, had trouble in math class and she and her buddies rode horses. What more could you want? She could wipe the haunted mansion with prissy Nancy any day, as far as I’m concerned.
As a money-grubbing teen I sold all my books in my Mom’s garage sale. Last summer though, I went on an eBay frenzy and bought most of them back. I read them too, back to back. Cuz I’m smooth like that.
2) When I was 11 I stole a kaleidescope from a toy store because Kristi F. asked me to. She was 8 years older than me, could tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue and listened to Pato Banton. I desperately wanted her to like me and I felt pretty confident that being a hardened thief would win her affections. Of course, it never occured to me that she was being paid to babysit me while my parents were on vacation, and would not have hung out with me otherwise, even if I’d managed to pocket the Mona Lisa.
3) I often have fantasies of going to a hotel… alone. Just me, room service, an uninterrupted hot bath, and a good book. Please Do Not Disturb. I’m pretty sure I’d last five minutes before calling my fellas to come and crash the pool with me though.
4) I have no idea what I’m doing on so many levels, and question myself all the time. Is homeschooling the right decision for my kids? Can I really claim to wear this size if I have to lie down on the bed to get the zipper up? Do I practice what I preach? Will I actually finish Ryder’s quilt before he graduates high school? Can I call my house clean if I know good and well that opening a closet door would land some poor unfortunate soul in the ER? How on earth did I come to deserve THREE gorgeous, inspiring, curious, wonderful sons? Bloody WHEN will the next season of Project Runway begin? See, plagued by questions and doubts.
5) I have never left the country, and don’t even have a passport. But… a little birdie has told me that I might want to get one soon….
6) I’d eat brownies everyday for breakfast if I didn’t care to live long enough to see my grandkids. You know the ones, the thick, dark chocolate tasting, nut-filled gooey ones (the brownies, not the grandkids). I’d eat them in a box and with a fox, in the rain and on a train, in the nude, in lieu of other food, here and there, I’d eat them everywhere!
7) I had a crush on George Michael… in the Wham days. I’ve gotten over it of late, thanks to his extremely disappointing behavior. “Ew,” is the word that comes to mind. I really do try to accept people where they are, for who they are, but… well suffice it to say that I’m not linking to any of his unfortunate public incidents because I prefer you to remember him at his espadrille-wearing, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” best.
8) I played the trumpet in highschool. I had no real musical ambitions, and not much talent, but I was extremely determined to be the very best trumpeter that I could be because the longer I remained in band, the longer I was eligible to opt out of P.E. It was a small sacrifice to avoid sweating, running, bouncing or being made to change clothes in front of my peers. And let’s face it, band geeks were my people… my Trixie Belden loving, toy-theiving, self-doubting, brownie-eating, Wham-listening, P.E.-avoiding people.
Seriously now, think long and hard before tagging me again, dear readers. There is a never-ending fount of this drivel. You’ve no idea.