I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve . . . I have a history of losing my shirt . . .

Velveeta cheese makes me dizzy. We can just start there. If you're in my family, you're thinking "I already know that. And it's ridiculous." If you're a casual reader, you're thinking "that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I must read more to see if she'll say anything stupider than that." I have no scientific explanation for it, I just know Velveeta cheese doesn't feel good in my head and never has. And I thought it was a good number 1 (one)




for my list of "Seven Things You Don't Know About Me." I was tagged by my friend amazing artist Anne Leuck Feldhaus, who I hope to be receiving a painting from in December -- she paints delightful dog portraits, among other things, and has been working on a portrait of Special Agent Dale Cooper for us. Can't wait, Anne (I'll post a picture when we get it)!

Before we move on to number 2, I do think we should note some of the swell and versatile things one can do with Velveeta cheese:


Yes, that's right: chopped nuts, pickle relish, mayo, worcestershire and melted Velveeta. YUM! But alas, I would need to wear a Dramamine patch to enjoy those tasty nut burgers at my next canasta party.







(2) Two. I used to think the word "disturb" was actually "disturv." I was quite old (seriously -- well past school age) by the time my brother figured this out and corrected me in that special way older brothers have -- I feel slightly humiliated to this day. Incidentally, I'm quite sure my oldest daughter made the same mistake, so I believe it is a genetic hearing problem of some kind and not my own folly. We hope this disorder will not be passed on to a third generation. But if it is, it will be corrected lovingly.



3) Three. Since we have raised the subject of horses, I may as well tell you that I was unable to ride my own horse at summer camp. (I am still terrified of riding horses. My beloved cowboy boots that I wear so proudly are really a full-quill ostrich lie. But a really attractive lie.) At summer camp I had to ride on the back of my friend Marianne's horse. I remember when we broke into a gallop, I was crying and screaming for her to stop -- being a real friend, she did not ridicule me for this around the campfire later. It was our secret. But I was not invited to ride the horses again. Whoa.




4) Four. I used to like watching "Lawrence Welk" when I was a kid -- I picked up this habit during my frequent visits to Aunt Lillie's house, where Lawrence Welk was a Saturday evening staple. I would watch it while Aunt Lillie made supper, which often involved fried Spam, incidentally, something I have not chosen to carry into my adult diet. I liked L. W. because it seemed to me that the people on it probably led lives very similar to movie musicals -- bursting into song and dance in the middle of doing the dishes or mowing the lawn. It was just a happy world -- I mean, there were bubbles floating around all the time. Who doesn't like bubbles?




5) Five. When I outgrew Lawrence Welk, I became hopelessly devoted to Saturday nights with "The Love Boat." I did not ever miss our weekly date -- I would make myself something fun for dinner (usually a turkey TV dinner -- I'm not sure why that was fun) and watch it on my mom and dad's bed, because they had the color TV. I love love loved Julie's short hair (I've almost always had short hair and short haired girls have to stick together). I have purchased "The Love Boat" on dvd and I can now tell you several things about it: it is sexist, racist, and absolutely ridiculous. But it is a good, albeit guilty, way to kill an hour on the treadmill. And the parade of faces from my childhood! It's truly a cruise down memory lane.




6) Six. I used to devour Seventeen magazine, faithfully following every beauty tip. On one memorable occasion, I tried washing my hair with raw eggs because it was supposed to make it so -- something -- and I was continually hoping for a hair upgrade. This was during one of my rare long-hair phases. The article did not tell me (and I was too dumb to figure out) that after the eggs you should use a regular shampoo. When I had rinsed out the egg, (I noticed but had no time to deal with the numerous little white clumps of ick I found when I combed my hair), I went for an appointment at the hospital for a test of some kind (heart murmur -- it was nothing). The technician was an extremely young and good looking guy who first had to smear jelly all over my chest (completely embarassing for a jr. high schooler) and then have me lay there with my gown open while he moved the little testing thingy all over. I have never been so self conscious in my life, but worst of all was the incredibly nasty smell of egg that was coming off my hair and nearly suffocating us both. I wished I had a heart problem so I could die right there. I must admit it did not stop me from trying something similarly silly with lemon juice (which resulted in pulp in my hair) shortly thereafter.




7) Seven. While we're on the subject of my jr.-high-schooler-chest (never thought I'd say that on my blog), I'll tell you about one of my favorite Christmas gifts ever. It was from an aunt I rarely saw (she lived many states away) and was a complete and rather strange surprise: a training bra. A little embarassing to open on Christmas morning, and I have no idea why she sent it. But I had been puzzling and puzzling for sometime about how to broach this topic with my mother because all my friends were already in "training" and I was sure my time had come. A sad end to the story is that shortly after that, my Aunt Lillie was measuring me to sew a new jumper with a fitted bodice. I was very excited because she was going to have to measure right over my new training bra! When she saw the measurement was 28", she laughed so hard she literally had to sit down on the floor. It was particularly injurious to my pride because I had thought my training was going extremely well.

What, done already? I guess that was seven -- to you it probably seemed like 27. Now I've got to figure out who to tag next . . . don't all raise your hands at once. There are an awful lot of people I'd like to know 7 things about. I'll have to get back to you on that.

Happy weekend!