Meme'd...Again!

Seven Weird Things about Me

GrannyP got me. As I was cyber-running through space I thought I'd arched my back enough in that critical last moment when she was stretching forward to tag me but I felt that slightest of taps and her 'gotcha' tones in my head and knew she'd done it. Still, she's headed this way in September and has thrown out the lure of some good figgy jam, and I'm a notoriously easy touch so...

1. I count things. Lots of things. Not just the steps up to my house (which are the same as the steps down) but lots of things. And then I apparently forget the number because the next day, I do the same damned thing.

2. I once faked an asthma attack in high school to get out of taking a test. Full blown attack. Parents called. Ambulance summoned. I guess I didn't properly think it through. You know, consequences.

3. I have always had demanding teeth. When I was three, I heard my dentist at Georgetown Dental School (Washington, DC) say to a group of his dental students, "That poor child. She will be lucky if she has a tooth in her head by the time she's 30." My mother swears there's no way I could have heard this, that the dentist was a good 25' away and whispering, but I heard it...and remember to this day exactly what he said. As a result, until I was 30, I had nightmares about biting into bananas and having my teeth fall out.

4. When my father almost lost his finger in a lawnmower accident, my mother was so horrified that she ran and locked herself in her bedroom and screamed "Linda, quick...go help your father!" I did. In fact, he had already positioned the half-severed finger in place and put pressure and ice and towels 'round it. I drove him to the hospital in part on the new and as yet unfinished Washington, DC beltway. Not all the segments were finished, but the bits that were open I drove upon, per my pa's instructions. I was almost 12 and my father was nothing but encouraging. I can still hear him saying, "Good girl. You're doing fine. Sugar, try and keep between the lines." I was sitting on pillows and at the edge of the seat. The car was automatic and I'd had some driving experience. On Sundays, back when everything closed on that day of rest, my Pa would take me to the vast supermarket parking lots and let me drive around to my heart's content. Those lessons paid off.

5. In one three month period of my life, my final summer holiday while at university (before I dropped out and married my stranger), I held three jobs, simultaneously. I was making money hand over fist and had never felt quite so flush. From 9 to 5 I was a cub reporter for The Georgetowner newspaper...a small local paper in Washington, DC, then owned by the ancient Amy Stewart. From 5:30 to 7:30 I sold New York Times subscriptions by telephone. It was the first year home delivery was offered in our area and while I can't remember how much money I made from that gig, I do remember it was pretty amazing. It seemed like everyone I called was so excited at the idea of getting a NY Times on their doorstep that they just said yes. And then at the weekend, three other gals and I danced on a bar in Georgetown. It was 1968 and I wore cut-off jeans and a t-shirt. Weird, I know. And when I finished, I was walked to my car and I drove home. Didn't tell my Mum about that job. But the money was great. Old Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd movies would be flickering in the background and I'd be dancing. Oh well.

6. As an older child (around 11 or 12 years old), I was often left to my own devices while my parents worked. During the summer holidays when time obviously hung a little too heavily, I would wait for my parents to head off to work and then I'd jump on my bike and race to The Greyhound Bus station in Silver Spring, Maryland (a good five miles away). I'd look at the fronts of the buses to see where they were headed, ask how long a trip it was and then buy a ticket. I could get to Richmond or Baltimore or Frederick and once when my parents had plans and were going to be home a bit late, I took the express bus to Philadelphia. As long as I didn't hang around too long when I got to those places, I could catch another bus back in time to beat my parents home. Ever hung around a Greyhound or Trailways bus station? Without fail, they are in the worst parts of town. I still have not shared those adventures with my Mum.

7. I have not shared that I have a blog with most people I know. Not sure why.

And I'm tagging anyone who reads this blog. And Birthday Bob, that means you...use this as a springboard to write your second posting. Seven weird things about you. NOW GO!