Some call them quirks. Others call them freakish facts. I call them random notes about me…because what else would I write about while killing time in the airport besides my nuttiness?
I’ve found that certain items can pass muster as store generics while others are definitely Brand Name Only. Why? I’m not really sure. Except I’ve yet to meet a generic ketchup that tastes as good as Heinz so that’s kind of a deal breaker. Same thing with peanut butter, Greek yogurt, and hair products. Plus tooth floss. And toilet paper. I’m weird that way.
Once we break a particular temperature each summer it takes an act of God to get me to put on socks and sneakers. Airing out my feet (hello, flip flops) is a critical part of my no-heat-stroke plan. Which in turn is a critical part of my no-collapsing-in-a-public-place-thus-requiring-EMT-assistance plan.
I encourage my kids to try something new each day (or, you know, as often as possible). It’s probably my fault that they consider drinking a virgin mudslide the same thing as “trying something new,” but some days I’ll take what I can get. I try hard to model this philosophy, I really do, but sometimes even I hit my breaking points.
Wednesday I threw myself off a boat in the middle of the ocean to swim with whale sharks. Tuesday? Well, on Tuesday I balked at eating octopus. Now I ask you, which one of those activities is more likely to be traumatic? Yet as Bear and I peered into the buffet platter I found it impossible to put one of those octopus tentacles (suction cups and all) on my plate. Could. Not. Do. It. So much for modeling an adventurous palate.
Fresh guacamole just might be the closest thing to a heavenly vegetable I’ll ever find. Don’t talk to me about calorie count.
Being the middle child is underrated. Okay, maybe I got screwed over a couple of times along the way, but I developed some extremely valuable life skills growing up. Negotiation tactics. Surveillance techniques. A healthy appreciation for privacy. Along with the invaluable understanding that it’s easy to disappear if you’re mousy, so you’d better find your voice and use it.
Wool makes me itch. Like, really itch. Scratch-the-top-layer-of-skin-off-then-keep-on-going kind of itch. I refused to accept this for the longest time…actually I still have a winter pea coat I refuse to give away, but the collar makes me itch so much I can only wear it with a scarf protecting my neck.
Weird things make me bizarrely happy now that I’m older. Discovering the miracle of Amazon Prime. Finding a perfect red for my toenails. Good shade and a light breeze on muggy days. Stealing a solid nap on a crazy afternoon. Fuzzy boot slippers on a cold winter day.
My dad used to call me “long neck and skinny legs” when I was a kid. Two guesses why. A comparison to the ostrich wouldn’t be entirely out of line.
These days ordering my own pizza is a treat on par with a blissful shoulder rub. I mean, I like pepperoni just fine. But extra cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, and black olives? Yum. As a bonus, I’m guaranteed to find the leftovers in the fridge no matter how long it takes me to eat them.
I think I’ll go heat that pizza up now.