Seven Things

Well Lillian, my fellow Utahn, tagged me to play "Seven Things". I think this should be called something like "Seven Dweeb-y Things".



1. I make lists. And sub-lists. And follow-up lists. There's the sticky-note list that I make during the day, of items that need to be assimilated into the main list. There's the "floating list" of all the things I never get around to, but am tired of writing down day after day. I stick it in the planner with tape and just move it forward day by day; each day's list ends with "Item # 87: Finished? Hah! Refer to Floating List."



2. I get heartburn sometimes; in fact, I've had heartburn every day this week. I'm worried that it's because I'm 40. Now, I am old. (Sigh of despair) A codger. With heartburn. When it's happening, I say, "No more!" No coffee, alcohol, chile peppers. I promise that I won't wolf my food. I will take dainty bites of rice and boiled chicken breast, which I will chew 30 times before swallowing with a ladylike sip of water. Then the heartburn goes away and I go back to snarfing all my favorite foods, 'cause I'm still YOUNG, dammit!



3. I like doing laundry. (In a lilting, dreamy voice) You take the dirty, smelly, food-crusted, nasty clothes; carry out a few simple processes, and you've got warm, sweet-smelling piles of tidy squares. And, it's the gift that keeps on giving. I get to ride this wave every Saturday!



4. I'm gregarious with my close friends, but surprisingly jittery about making new ones. I love giving parties. But for every party I plan and give, there are maybe three that I just think about and never throw. Some of my fantasy parties include: the all-neighborhood block-off-the-cul de sac street fair and cookout... the two-days-before-New-Year's open house for the neighbors...the make-your-own pizza party with the parents of all my kids' close friends...the summer corn and brat roast with my staff.... So far, I have only given these parties in my head. I'm a social chicken s***. One of the reasons I keep bombing out of churches is that I find coffee hour with all those new people so excruciating. I lost religion at the coffee urn?



5. When I buy my husband's shampoo, I amuse myself by finding the ones with the most effeminate names possible. Tangerine Tickle. Frothy Papaya Smoothie. Field of Flowers.



6. I am a highly controlled (meaning, no screaming in front of the kids or they'll grow up just like their neurotic mother) arachnophobe. I lived in North Queensland, Australia once, in a house that was infested with Huntsman spiders. They are about 10 inches across, and furry. I once called an exterminating company to come to the house and kill the one that had crawled into my bedroom. "Just the one, ma'am?" the exterminator asked, incredulous. Yes! Just do it and stop asking questions.



7. I went to St. Olaf College in Minnesota, which is something of a music school, and I loved to sing. I was at the movies with my kids last week, and suddenly in the middle of the trailers, this preview came on for a special screening of the St. Olaf Christmas Concert. There on the big screen in front of me were 20 year-old images of my friends and me. My permed, 1980s hair. My old buddy Monica, head ten feet tall, playing the violin in the orchestra. Seriously weird.

Now, I need to tag seven people. Since I have admitted to my fear of new social situations, I will tag some of my newer friends. How proactive.

Shelly
Super Hero
Joann
Gypsy Jane
Cinnibonbon

And a couple of familiar frinds, 'cause the last time I tagged them, they didn't do it. Let's try again.

Jess
Shirley