Mr. Lady tagged me for my very first meme ev-ah. I feel like I should add a “yo” to the end of that sentence, in her honor; at the very least, I should use a semi-colon—her new favorite punctuation. So, thanks, Mr. Lady, for pulling me onto the meme train! This has been an excellent procrastination tool to help me avoid grading the projects I really should be working on. I appreciate the love. And the distraction.
Name one thing you do every day:
Write. Comments on student papers, reams of emails, chapters or articles based on my own research, occasional children’s fiction (never yet published), book reviews, to-do lists, blog posts, or dictations from my budding-writer Son. I write a lot. I've been known to say there's too much paper in my life. But honestly? I don't think I could live or breathe if I didn't write.
Name 2 things you wish you could learn:
1. To ice skate well enough to win an Olympic medal. I’m not picky; it doesn’t have to be a gold medal.
2. To sing well enough that I don’t feel the need to murmur my way through “Happy Birthday” out of sheer mortification.
Name 3 things that remind you of your childhood:
1. Peppermint ice cream. Please do not confuse with mint chocolate chip. I mean the intensely pink mint ice cream studded with tiny bits of red and green peppermint candy. For years and years, I ate this every single Saturday – after consuming vast quantities of crispy crust Canadian bacon pizza with my sisters, dad, and step-mother.
2. The smell inside my mother’s sewing machine cabinet drawers. A bit spicy, somewhat dry, like an exotic wood that’s been warmed in the sun. I can still smell the excitement of creativity that I tried to imbibe by sitting behind her on the same chair as she sewed. (How annoying must that have been?!) And since I now have the cabinet, I get a reminder of all those happy afternoons every time I search out a needle or thread for any reason.
3. An old wicker trunk that I now use to store wrapping paper. Every year, my sisters and I took over our mother’s decorative wicker trunk in the weeks before Christmas and slowly stockpiled our wrapped offerings inside. Unwritten rule was that no one else was allowed to look inside the trunk. On Christmas Eve, we would choose one sister’s room and all sleep together on the floor, and then wake up at something like 5am to sneak out and add our stash to the pile under the tree. “Santa” had already visited, the tree lights were left lit all night, and the presents from the three of us doubled the pile – so there was always a surprising treat for the rest of the household (brother, mom, stepdad, grandparents) when they woke up too. Then we’d go back to our sleeping bags, whisper and giggle for a while, and fall asleep again until it was really time to get up. We felt like fairies. It was magical.
Name 4 things you love to eat but rarely do:
1. Timbale. This is a fabulous Italian dome-shaped dish that requires making a huge sheet of homemade pasta and lining your largest metal mixing bowl with it, and then spending the next four hours frying up homemade sausage meat balls, making marinara sauce with fresh minced vegetables and fresh tomatoes, boiling pasta, hardboiling eggs, and layering all this and about 10 other ingredients inside the pasta sheet before you seal it all up and bake it for three hours. It feeds about a dozen people and takes two good cooks all day to make and clean up after. So you know why I rarely eat it. Even though it tastes totally incredible.
2. Boiled artichokes with tons of garlic butter to dip the leaves in. Fantastic. Simple. Delicious. But who needs to eat ½ a stick of butter on a regular basis? Really.
3. Fresh lobster, eaten at a picnic table on the dock in
Name 5 things/people that make you feel good:
1. What my dear friend Rebecca has named the Big Salon Hair Cut. One that lasts an hour and a half, costs more than you’ll admit to your husband, includes Product (always with a capital P) that smells heavenly, and makes you wish you had some Event to attend that night with lots of strangers and a few old college snobs to impress.
2. A toddler who greets me at the door running full-tilt and hollering “mama!” at the top of her enormous voice.
3. A student who, out of the blue, sends me a note to say how much she enjoyed my class last semester.
4. When Husband reaches over in the middle of a movie and starts giving me a foot rub even before I suggest it
5. Flashing a tricky 5.9. It’s not as dirty as it sounds. Well, not that kind of dirty. If you’ve never gone rock climbing, here’s the translation: you read the number as “five nine,” and everyone just knows there’s a decimal there; flashing means you’ve never climbed the route before, and you make it all the way to the top without a fall or glitch; a 5.9 is hard enough that I couldn’t do one at all now that I haven’t been climbing for a few years but not so hard that I couldn’t work up to it again. If you wonder why rock climbing makes me feel good, here’s a photo that pretty much sums it up (yes, that's the ocean at the bottom of the cliffs; this particular climb was not actually not very hard, but it's a pretty incredible feeling to be out in nature like this):
In the spirit of memeosity, I am tagging PB&J in a Bowl, Kim at Jogging in Circles, and McMommy at The McMommy Chronicles, all of whom I’d like to get to know better. If they're already all memed out, I understand -- but being that this is my first chance to pass one on, I'm not blase enough to refuse.