People who get tagged need to write a blog entry of their own 6 weird things as well as stating this rule clearly! Three people need to be tagged and their names listed. Finally a comment needs to be left on each tagged person’s blog…
1. OK. Let's get this one over with first; my daughter says I laugh like Ernie on Sesame Street. Not that I don't find him adorable, and I admit I do a decent imitation of him when inspired, "hey, Burt. . ." It's just a little less than flattering to know you have his laugh!
2. I have extra bones in my feet. Yes, the blogger is a freak! During a trip to Washington DC as a girl scout, I had tremendous foot pain as my arches fell, due to the extra stress this unnecessary bones place on my plantar-facial tendon. So, I'm flat-footed as well. Weird, huh?
3. I jut out my jaw while blogging. This is causing me to have TMJ, or jaw dislocation which causes headaches. I blame Blogger, for giving me so many problems that I had to jut out my jaw to deal with the tension. Couldn't be my intense writing style!
4. I'm allergic to bananas. I have never met anyone with this allergy, but I've had it since infancy. They make me dizzy and nauseous. I tried to sneak around this with a dish of crispy fried platanos once, but, I couldn't fool my body. The ceiling started to spin. Whoa!
5. I give my daughters unspeakably silly nicknames; chickie-loo,and MissyChrissy, for Christina, and muchila(backpack in Spanish) for Gaby. When she was a tiny, colicky baby; she was carried along in my sling for hours as we walked the floors each night. I think I'm entitled to give her a silly nickname for all she put me through!
6. I either read full steam ahead, or I'm a dilettante. With the more highbrow stuff,
I can't read only one book at a time. I have on my night able "Triumph", a book on Church history, "Healing the Original Wound" by Fr. Benedict Groeschel, "When Slow is Fast Enough" about special education preschool programs, and I finally gave up on the bloviating Bill O'Reilly's "Culture Warrior" when I found him disingenuous.
I get tired of a book, unless. . .it's a novel. As a shy thirteen year old escaping junior-high bullies, I locked myself in my room for four days, and read 1037 pages of "Gone With the Wind", with my worried mother sending up meals. My cousin Marion gave me my first Maeve Binchy novel, and now, I don't dare read them, or I'll be hauled in for child neglect after two days of total absorption. This, however, is not my fault, it is inherited from my Irish great-grandmother who, with 10 children in a thatched cottage could lose herself in a book, and as my Grandma said, "the whole house could come down around her, and she wouldn't notice".
I tag Esther, Julie D. , and Ruth!