Monday, October 1, 2007

Seven Things You Do Not Know About Me (and may not want to)

Colleen, the wise and witty writer of Main Street Memories has tagged me to share Seven Unknown Facts About Myself. I am having a bit of difficulty trying to come up with seven things that will make you want to keep reading after Number 1. But, as a designated tagee, I will do my best to honor the request from this dear tagger. Here are seven things no one reading this knows about me:

1. I have a fear of roosters. Not just a fear, a morbid fear of them.
When I was twelve, my father asked me to feed leftover corn cobs from our family barbecue to the chickens. No problem. HA! Breaking the cobs in half, so all of the chickens would have some, and tossing them over the fence, I hit the King of the Coop. In the head. Don't ever do this. Turning around and locking his gaze on me, he started for the fence. It's 6 feet high, he can't get me. At least that's what I thought. Running as fast as his little chicken legs would take him, he runs UP the fence, over the top and down to the ground where he proceeded to chase me. Running as fast as my little girl legs would take me, I ran from the back of the barn to the front of the house, screaming at the top of my lungs, as he, that stupid rooster, would rear up behind me trying to claw me to death. Reaching the front yard, I spied my parents. Safety at last! Not. (Note: When observing a child running from roosters, parents lose all sense and wet their pants laughing.) My father did have enough presence of mind to put his foot out as the rooster approached, and trip the wretched bird, thereby saving me from certain disaster. I refer to all roosters now as "Sunday Dinner", and will not have one when I finally have my own flock of chickens.

2. I believe in Borrowers.
Some of my favorite books as a child were The Borrower series by Mary Norton. I practically fell into the lives of Pod, Homily and Arietty Clock. Living under the floorboards of an old English manse, theirs was the home I would most like to visit. A climbing hook fashioned from a safety pin was how Pod would maneuver about the house, collecting his 'borrowings'. A small nail file, borrowed from a night stand easily cut through a borrowed potato from the kitchen. Blotter paper lined the floor like a velvety carpet, soft under foot. Empty spools, matchboxes and cigar boxes, became elegant furniture in their hands. Who wouldn't want to believe in them? In my bedroom, there was a small stairway that led down to the hall that connected my father's office to the family room. Coming down the steps one Saturday morning, I discovered a line of perfectly formed, miniature horseshoe prints. A tiny horse had carried a Borrower through the white paint in Dad's office and left concrete evidence of their existence. I am not joking here. Leading down the hall, they disappeared at the carpet of the family room. Well, of course they did, the paint had dried before they reached it. I have yet to find any evidence that I have Borrowers living in my own house, but that is fine by me. I know they are here.

3. I Do Not Like Snakes!
When I was five, I had a pair of Keds sneakers with a little hole in the side. They were my playing-outside shoes. One afternoon, skipping by the small, round garden my mother had planted, a little milk snake slithered over my right foot and disappeared. IT HAD GONE INTO MY SHOE!! Well, not really. But that is what I thought. Running screaming inside (I did a lot of running and screaming as a child apparently) I could barely get out the words that IT was in my shoe and needed to be taken out now, thank you. My mother, between trying to pry my shoe off and laughing hysterically, (something she did a lot of when I was a child) was unable to convince me that it was not in there. Finally, removing the shoe, shaking it out, reaching her hand inside of it, I realized that the snake, probably now somewhere near Boston, had slithered over my foot, and not in my sneaker. It doesn't matter though. I still lift up my feet when I see one.

4. I am a closet rock star!
On the rare day that I am here alone, left to my own devices, I turn on the radio and sing. Loudly. I'm hip. I'm cool. I'm awful. But I don't care. It's what gets me through the drudgery of cleaning the house. As a result, we have no fine crystal, dogs begin to howl for miles around (for seemingly no apparent reason), and I have feigned a sore throat more times than I can count because my voice was not designed to sing rock. Now you know.

5. I had a pet bat. For about five minutes.
The house I grew up in was built in 1668. And no, I was not there when it was built. Behind the house stood a creepy, grey barn. Typical New England styling, it had huge doors that slid across the front. It was the greatest place to poke around, discovering hidden treasures. Well, one day, the hidden treasure was a small, sleeping brown mouse. No it wasn't. It was a bat. But my brother and I thought it was a mouse and put it in the dusty wire bird cage that sat in a dark corner. We were completely frozen in fear as it awakened and spread its wings. We ran out of the barn very quickly. Coming back the next morning, we found one empty bird cage and no evidence of the bat. Anywhere. But I think it was the same one that got into the house and flew around my parent's bedroom one night. Payback, you know.

6. For my fortieth birthday, I decided to have braces put on my teeth.
After going through life being called "can opener teeth" by my evil brother, I came to the conclusion that I really did need to do something about my crooked smile. Three years , a huge amount of pain, and a loss of 35 pounds later, they came off. And now I have beautiful, straight teeth. But my brother still has the stinkiest feet East of the Rockies. And he can't do anything about it.

7. I love being alone.
And when I am not caught up doing my best Pat Benetar impersonation, I relish a bit of quiet solitude. It is the time when ideas are allowed to flow freely through my mind because there is no one here to place a stop sign in front of them. It is when I do the things I choose to instead of the things I have to. I think everyone needs that time to be by themselves every now and then. It is restorative to the soul. Unfortunately, my alone time is coming to an end and I have to go pick up Number 2 Son from his first day at work. It was fun while it lasted.

I am to choose seven others upon whom this task of revealing 7 unknowns about themselves will fall. Be sure to pop back and see who they are!!

Well, I could not choose just seven, so I have tagged all of you. If you feel compelled to share your own seven unknowns, leave a comment and I will surely stop by to read them. :)


Bella Modiste said...

yeesh..if I were chased by a crazed and mad rooster too..I think I'd be terrified too!
I greatly dislike shoulda seen me high tail it out of those woods when dad so much as said "ooh look, there is a snake"....I swear I flew...haha
~The Bella Modiste~

amy said...

okay, so i guess i won't bring my rooster with me next monday!

Utah Grammie said...

You are too funny! I loved reading this (at work..shhh..don't tell!) Sounds like you had a wonderful childhood - although tramatic! And tell your brother to be nice..or I'll tell him I can smell his feet in Utah! (and they said it was "lake effect"!)

Beth Leintz said...

Oh Karen, sometimes you just crack me up! Love the rooster story!