- I am left-handed. And so is the Beve. Thereby creating one completely right-handed child (our son), one who does most things right, but dribbles (on a basketball court--and this is significant) left (E), and one of the most ambidextrous people you'll ever meet. SK prefers to eat right, write left, and everything else is up for grabs!
- I hate mayonnaise. OK, so this isn't much of a secret. Most people who have more than a passing acquaintance with me have heard me say so. But the other day I started to watch "The Next Iron Chef" where the chefs had to use a single condiment to create a fancy dish--things like BBQ sauce, hot sauce, yellow mustard all seemed reasonable. Until the camera shifted to the man working with mayo. Scooping large spoonfuls of it out of a jar...I thought I was going to vomit. Quickly switched the channel before I could discover he'd made something I actually like from something I so loathe.
- I'm a California girl. Technically, anyway. I was born in San Pedro, which has now been swallowed up in LA, but back then was just a little seaside naval base town. I remember...absolutely nothing about it. We moved to Washington when I was three weeks old. Coincidentally, my first airplane trip was when I was three weeks old.
- I have one near-sighted and one-far-sighted eye. This might explain a whole lot about me, actually. But what we most notice in our daily life is that I often think pictures are crooked on walls when they aren't. The other day, Beve hung up hooks in our bathroom, one on each side of a tall towel rack and I was absolutely convinced that one was higher than the other. He had to get out a tape-measure and level to prove to me that--once again--it's my eyes that don't work correctly. The glasses are meant to help, but apparently they don't always do the job.
- When I see a woman leave a public restroom without having washed her hands, I want to accost and accuse her. Seriously, what is it with grown, well-coiffed people NOT WASHING THEIR HANDS? If there's a hierarchy of sins, that's right up there in my mind.
- I have never believed in Santa Claus. My mother had started the whole Santa thing with my older brother, saw where it might lead, and cut it off at the pass. However, she forgot to send me the memo that other kids in Kindergarten actually did think Santa was real. My first conversation with a principal was when he kindly asked me to stop telling my classmates the truth. Apparently there had been calls.
- We used to own a Llasa Ahpso named Sassy, a little caramel-colored curmudgeon who loved Beve and hated kids. In fact, she had a habit of biting them. We almost had her put down on a camping trip in Canada when she bit the daughter of the friends we were traveling with, but they talked us out of it. A year, and several nips later (her teeth were small enough that no one was ever hurt, just scared), we gave her to a 'Llasa Rescue.' Well, I'm pretty sure I saw her yesterday when I was picking up Jamaica at the groomer. When I walked in and started talking this caramel Llasa began barking and flailing around in its kennel--while 'Maica was still just lying in hers. So I asked about the Llasa. "It's pretty old," the girl said. "It was five when it started coming here in 2004." Exactly, I thought. "Does it live with a family?" "No, no kids," she answered, looking at the card. Yep, Sassy, alright. Pretty sad to see her.
- In college, the quarter when my heart was broken along with my engagement, I allowed myself to take an Incomplete in an English class. Yep, a class in my very major. Then I never finished it. And you know what happens to an I when you don't complete it? It becomes an F. For years, for decades, this haunted me. Kept me from wanting to go back to school. Every other grade in that major was definitely NOT an F, but that one grade, that one tiny F was a humiliating secret I never wanted anyone (even a nameless grad program) to know about. Finally, however, Regent College happened. My transcripts had to be sent for. And you know what? That I had never been changed to an F. It was nothing. Still an I. I don't know why.
- I actually know my own IQ...and wish I didn't. Back when my father was getting his PhD at the University of Michigan, my parents had their three oldest kids tested at the university. And they discovered that we're all pretty intelligent human beings. And they reminded me of this more than once, especially on the occasions when I brought home report cards that weren't as good as they expected. However, being smart isn't the same as being wise, and I think my parents/family placed too high a premium on the former. And I've done the same, I'm ashamed to admit. I judge people by their brains, and it's WRONG. There isn't a single thing in scripture about being smart, but there's a plethora of words about the Kingdom value of wisdom.
- I'm not where I thought I'd be. It actually kills me to think of my life at times. I never thought I'd get to this age and not have had a career. I don't regret my life, don't regret having stayed home with my children or the paths that God has clearly led us on, but...sometimes it seems so small. I don't want it to have been big, I don't have giant ambitions, never did. But something that counted in His Kingdom, I hoped for that. Still do. Even now, when my life is hemmed on one side by pain and the other by in-laws and their needs, I still hope--in the most prayerful way one can use the word hope--for a life that counts. Is this it? Is this small faithfulness all He asks of me? Then, please, God, let it be enough for me, too.
Friday, October 29, 2010
things you might not know about me: