Or the snot. One of those. In any case, I'm blaming them because I can no longer remember who challenged me to list six weird things about myself and apparently my brain has been damaged by all the snot pressure because I can't even find the comment. It's a sad state of affairs. Nevertheless, I'll certainly try to comply. Hopefully you can all read "utter dork", which is the language in which I'm writing today.
Now, the thing about the 6 weird things is...well, c'mon. You read my blog. You KNOW. You know that it would take far less time to list the things about me that aren't weird. You know, like I typically walk upright (except when going upstairs in the privacy of my home...I'll let you work on that), I don't usually wear my underwear on the outside of my clothes, and I don't smell like Spam. I think that about covers it. What actually is weird, though....wow. Just six? Okay, let's see....what could possibly be considered weird by Knitingale standards (a bar which I think you'll agree is staggeringly high)?
1. I really, really love grilled peanut-butter-and-marshmallow sandwiches. Really. Yes, they're quite messy. Yes, you need a non-stick pan or a regular pan that you consider to be disposable because you'll never get the melted grilled marshmallow off the bottom of it without an assortment of caustic chemicals or a sandblaster. Or both. And yes, it does give a person really sickly sweet peanut-butter breath. And I still love them.
2. I know how to contra dance....and I have no idea why it's called that, although I worried the first time I went that it might involve rebellion in a foreign country (it doesn't). I also love to contra dance, so it is greatly painful that I know absolutely no one who likes to dance. You can go alone...but it's more fun if you don't.
3. I once won a barrel race riding a very VERY large pinto horse named Tunafish. This is a bit more weird when you consider that I am well known these days for being utterly terrified of horses (tiny brains, hard, sharp feet--I think this a bad combo. Most especially since one kicked me in the leg so hard that it left a permanent dent on one thigh that I used to be able to put my fist into. The sandwiches in number one have done their part to fill it in a bit over the years.). The rodeo with the barrel race was definitely before the "OhmyGodit'sgoingtokillme" thing.
4. If you've ever taken CPR, you've been told to be careful not to apply pressure to the xyphoid process, the little bone at the end of the sternum, because it could puncture the liver. I was born without a xyphoid process (an oddity, not a medical problem) so you could theoretically push anywhere you damn well pleased if I were to collapse in front of you. Please aim in the general direction of the heart, though, should the occasion arise.
5. I once had a black and white cat (of the sort that look like little dairy cows) who would lick peanut butter off a spoon. Now, years later, I have a little black and white cat (of the sort that looks like it's wearing a tuxedo) and she'll nearly climb right into your mouth if you're eating peanut butter and don't share it with her. In fact, this is her with a half a Reese's Piece:
Please don't report me to the ASPCA--I know candy isn't good for her and I give her half a Reese's Piece (never chocolate) only very, very rarely and then only because she begs so pitifully. I promise, I'm a good cat mommy. Anyway, I realize this makes her weirder than it makes me...but I figure I must get points for attracting such an assortment of weird animals. I also used to have one that would steal the sponges out of the kitchen sink and carry them around the house while meowing around them.
6. I have an unusually strong sense of smell (okay, not today, thank you SO much for reminding me of THAT painful subject). I once spent half an hour tracking down a strange smell in the kitchen that turned out to be a spot of mold the diameter of a ballpoint pen on a cantaloupe across the room from where I'd been when I first noticed it. Even I think that's pretty weird.
I suppose we could also mention that I have several tattoos, none of which are more than 15 years old and one of which is only about 6 months old (they're all tigers and butterflies...I like themes) or the fact that when my mother came home from the hospital with me after I was born, she placed me in a cradle with one of her cats and I've never been without feline company since, or the fact that I acted in a theater festival a few years ago in a production of "The Importance of Being Earnest" using what I'm sure was an abominable British accent (although it was worked okay for the Yanks watching the play), or my bizarre love of Algebra. (Really. I absolutely LOVE algebra. Hate geometry, though.) I don't know...is that enough weird?
I'll finish with a moment of what, in our crowd, passes for normalcy. Remember the green sweater I started making...with the cable up the front and around the neck? Yeah...I wasn't feeling the love. I still don't know why. I took it apart, started over with a heathery gray alpaca/lambswool blend, and now I love it. Come to think of it.....that's kinda weird, too. Damn. Anyway, this is what I have so far:
I tried about a hundred times to get a picture of the beautiful stitch markers (one had slipped to the back in this photo) but every time I got close enough for the detail, the photo was too washed out. But they are absolutely gorgeous, turquoise glass beads and they move so smoothly on the needles (without ever catching on the yarn or leaving a loose spot in the fabric) that they are the best stitchmarkers I've ever had. Marianne made them for me. I'm trying to talk her into selling them because seriously--these things just rock. Ask her about them. She's modest...but they're the best.