100 Things

Once when I couldn’t think of anything to blog about, I posted a list of random things about myself. Every once in a while, I’d add another list. A while later, I stumbled upon #100things tags.

Let it be known that I am never actually ahead of the curve; I just occasionally trip near the curve and land there by accident.

I kinda like being a nerd.
I once had an earring stuck in my ear for over 2 years and had to have it surgically removed.
I like the creepy, greenish light that appears in the sky before a tornado.
When I was 8 or 9, a carton of glass pop bottles broke and cut a gash in my left shin, where I still have a scar.
I drive a purple car.
I cry more easily than anyone I know.
I used to work at a battered women’s shelter.
I have never been arrested.
I had a severe case of croup as a child and can remember being in the cold clammy oxygen tent in the hospital.
I am very good at Nintendo Tetris.
I once had a dog named Oliver and a cat named Cherry Pie.
My father died when I was 8. I have about 4 memories of him and I think about them from time to time because I used to have more.
I must cut my sandwiches down the middle.
In high school, I loved corduroys and clogs. I didn’t sneak up on anyone.
I still have my original “See Jane run” reader.
I can’t stand cilantro.
Please call me Patricia. Not Pat, Patty, Trish, or Tricia.
I like to iron.
I get seasick, airsick, or carsick at the drop of a hat. I’m a fun traveling companion once we get there.
I’m sorry but jazz really just gets on my nerves.
In junior high, I told people that Journey’s Steve Perry was my second cousin.
I have certain stock answers when stuck at trivial pursuit. Some of them include Ty Cobb, the Beatles, and the South of France.
I’m annoyed by the boogers that form on pump dispensers of lotion and liquid soap.
My favorite Beatles song is completely impossible to narrow down but In My Life is right up there.
I have an “extra” heart beat.
I get the hiccups almost every single day.
I pronounce the rich gooey brown confection: car.mel, not care.a.mel
I’ve only ever had one bumper sticker. It read Why Be Normal? and I placed it upside down.
I can parallel park in even the tiniest of spaces on the first try.
I’m not familiar with the phrase, too much garlic.
I am cold ~~a lot~~ almost all of the time.
I like to consult the cheat sheet in a box of chocolates. Getting stuck with an orange cream is just wrong.
I’d almost rather wet myself than have to use a porta-potty.
I like ice cream but not anything a la mode.
As a baby, I wore shoes with a metal brace in between my feet to stabilize my ankles which, the doctor said, had too much elasticity.
I loved to color and went through countless Crayola boxes. Two in a row had a really gritty burnt sienna that made an awful squeaking noise when I used it. After that, when I got a new box I’d open it, remove the burnt sienna, and throw it away.
I like stinky cheese. Feta, bleu, gorgonzola.
I can’t watch a rodeo. It just seems cruel that frightening, chasing and roping animals is “entertainment.”
It took me a lot of years to stop wishing I could be less emotional.
Contrary to not wanting my food to touch on a plate, I enjoy certain combinations and will mix on purpose. I delight in doing this in front of mix-o-phobes.
Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to those red metal tri-fold closure thingies on sleeves of Premium saltines.
I tend to be very tangential and often have to ask, “What did we start talking about?”
One of my all-time favorite movies is The Sound of Music.
If I honored my body’s natural rhythms, I’d take an hourish nap around 3 p.m. and then be good to go for another 8 hours.
I say “bread & butter” when walking with someone, if we have to diverge around an object.
I am not fond of Hello Kitty.
Wallet, not billfold; soda or pop; couch, not sofa.
I can’t stand it when a sheet of paper on a perforated pad doesn’t tear off perfectly.
I’m compelled to get in there and do surgery on the little shards left behind.
I’ve never inhaled helium from a balloon but it’s on my to-do list.
I have difficulty wearing hats because I have a freakishly large head. Be quiet.
I don’t like to admit it but I have forgiveness issues. I’m working on this.
I find it amusing when people say they hate to vomit. Is there a group of people out there who enjoy it?
I don’t know more than the most basic roman numerals.
I love the annoying squeak of a styrofoam cooler. It reminds me of summer vacation.
I don’t like geraniums. Growing up, they were always used to decorate graves. I’ll forever see them as “cemetery flowers.”
Someday I want to enjoy Breakfast at Wimbledon in person.
I watched life leave my grandfather’s body. It was both heart wrenching and beautiful.
When I grill hot dogs, I like them burnt.
I’m afraid of ladders, but not of heights.
I played Aunt Polly in my 6th grade production of Tom Sawyer. I secretly wanted to play Becky Thatcher, but I guess even in the 6th grade, I was more matronly than girly. I’m mostly over it by now.
I use my grandparents’ pots and pans to cook in just about every day. They received them as a wedding gift in 1921.
I was a brownie and a girl scout. When I sold cookies, I lost the sign-up sheets and had hundreds of boxes in the front yard with no clue as to where to deliver them.
I would love to travel with the Stanley Cup for a week.
I wish I’d stuck with learning a musical instrument.
My all-time favorite Christmas present was a box that moved. Inside was a kitten who was so tiny she needed to rest halfway to her food dish and back. I named her Pokey.
Most days, I still honestly wonder what it’ll feel like to be a grown-up.
I’m trying to get in the habit of smiling more. Sometimes I see my reflection in a window and I think, Who’s that cranky old woman?
I often dream that I am in the midst of missing a flight to or from Paris. Très disappointing.
I have a much-loved friend I call Bump and who calls me Bump, as well.
I believe the world is a better place because of pie.
I have horrible propane roulette skills. This is the ability to finish cooking something on the gas grill before the tank runs out.
I don’t always make the best first impression.
I can’t sleep if the sheets are tucked into the bed even a little bit.
I’m fascinated by the various designs mowed into major league baseball parks.
I can’t think of a single fruit I don’t like.
I often feel that people stand too close to me when talking. This usually has us doing a sort of dance as I slowly back off and they slowly creep forward.
I can French braid my own hair much easier than someone else’s.
I’m bad at putting CDs back in the right case.
I used to / still do love Spirographs.
I have a crush on Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs. Even under all that filth.
I like to can my own tomatoes and jam. (Why’s it called canning when it’s actually jarring?)
I like a super firm mattress and rarely sleep well in most hotels.
The first drive-in movie I went to was 101 Dalmations. I got to eat popcorn, wear my pajamas in the car, and at one point my mom fell asleep. It was the coolest thing I’d ever done in my 7-year-old life.
I always wanted to be left-handed.
I have stood outside the Today show studio in New York City.
I have run out of gas. More than once.
I never outgrew the amusement of saying a word over and over again until it no longer sounds like a real word. (Rural, rural, rural…)
I like listening to A Prairie Home Companion.
I can’t hear “Taps” without crying.
A secret is always safe with me.
I buy only brown eggs.
I never fainted until I was in my 30s and it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as in the movies.
I love the smell of fresh lilacs.
I’ve never been a bridesmaid.
I love to play cribbage.
I have poor spatial visual skills. I can’t look at a crowd and determine how many people are there or see a room and determine if furniture could fit in a certain way.
I really want to be selected for jury duty.
I’m compulsively on time.
I enjoy impromptu water fights. Don’t stand too close to me at the sink if you feel otherwise.
I haven’t had a Diet Coke since December 2007.