...or at least I think you don't know about me. This little exercise is courtesy of Lisa Call who found an ingenious way to tag readers for passing on this meme. I fell into her criteria of a reader who's first and last name includes exactly 2 e's and 2 a's. Way to go, Lisa! Since she shared some fun information about her cats, I will lead off info about my dogs:
- I just realized that with the passing of my Labrador, I am without a dog underfoot for the first time since 1975. Because we often added a dog before the current one died, we just never had a lapse in furry pets. My mother-in-law complained that we gave the best "grandkid" names to our dogs, and we gave them middle names too. Among my favorites were Kate, who when in trouble was called by her full name of Katherine Louise Barnes; Megan Odie (as in "other dog"); and the slightly politically incorrect Jesse Owen for the recently deceased black lab.
- My mother agreed to teach me how to play the piano in order to keep from sending me to kindergarten. I was so anxious to start school; in those days, attending kindergarten was not a given and mom felt it wasn't necessary I guess. Or maybe she just wanted to keep me home one more year. I was also anxious to learn the piano and bugged her incessantly about it. So she gave me my choice - I couldn't do both, she said. I wonder if she would have reneged if I'd chosen school?
- I've sold harmonicas to James Earl Jones and answered questions about percussion instruments posed by Carlos Santana. Unfortunately, I didn't realize who I was dealing with until a fellow sales person pointed it out to me. The music store where this happened was located in downtown Tacoma, WA where we were prone to visits from street people. In my defense, Jones was dressed for a blue collar role in a film being shot downtown and looked like so many of my harmonica customers. Santana was in town for a concert, and while we were quite used to roadies showing up to buy drum heads and miscellaneous accessories for big name acts, we rarely were visited by the headliners themselves. He and his buddy looked very scroungy (like street people you know) and were acting half high. None of us really wanted to wait on them and didn't expect them to buy a thing, just handle all the merchandise and walk out. I begged a co-worker to cover for me so I could go to lunch. Later, he showed me a photocopy of a charge slip...signed by Carlos Santana! We were mortified we hadn't recognized him. In my favor though...I DID recognize Tracey Ullman and Phoenix River when they came in to kill some time in the guitar section.
- I'm a crack shot with a 22 pistol or 7mm rifle, but have never used either on a living being. You may want to think twice about trespassing...
- I corresponded with a Russian woman for quite a few years, as part of what I think was called the Letters for Peace project - an outgrowth of Glasnost and the hunger of the Russian people for friendly contact with the west. I was so embarrassed when I found out she was translating my letters from a dictionary, and later letting her young daughter translate them that I signed up for a Russian language class. I think it was 9 weeks at the community college and a real eye opener. I hadn't worked my brain that hard for years. I still had to have someone translate her letters for me but I got far enough that I could often get the gist of them using my trusty dictionary. We had our sewing and needlework in common, and I even sent her a little quilt.
- With very few exceptions, I walk every day, rain or shine, blistering heat or freezing cold. This is a habit the last dog got me into; it was easier to face the elements than her incessant pestering if we didn't go.
- I absolutely hate having to ask for help, and always have. I don't mind asking for advice - that's different. But there's something about having to admit I can't do something myself or figure something out by myself, regardless of why, that is hard for me to face. It's tied, no doubt, to the independent streak in me, or maybe the fear I'll be beholden to someone else, losing a bit of freedom. I was that way in the workplace and I'm that way in my personal life. As I age, though, I'm beginning to see the value in letting some of this go and letting others take over when it's in my best interest.