Anothermad tagged me, and you know how it is.  When Anothermad says, “Jump!” I say, “How high?”

“Rules”  After posting these rules, each player proceeds to list 8 relatively random facts/habits about himself/herself.  At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, leaving them a comment on their blogs to let them know.

1.  When I’m depressed, I eat a lot of peanut butter sandwiches.  I eat peanut butter sandwiches when I’m happy, too–I really like peanut butter–but when I’m sad, I must have peanut butter sandwiches.  I think I ate a peanut butter sandwich every day I was pregnant with Mister Bubby.  Believe it or not, that was not my saddest pregnancy.  But it was the most peanut-buttery.

2.  I have a flat spot on the crown of my head, about two inches in diameter.  And when I say “flat spot,” I mean that if I were to bow my head, I could balance a glass of water there.  Not that I’ve actually tried that.  I try not to think about my flat spot.  It actually gives me the creeps.  Every so often I have to scratch my head or something, and I accidentally feel the flat spot, and it’s pretty gross, actually.  You can’t tell I have it just by looking, though, because I still have my hair.

3.  When I was a senior in high schoo, I won an award–I actually think it was a Bank of America-sponsored award, or something–for “Most Promising Student in Foreign Language.”  The foreign language I studied in high school was German.  I took it for four years.  The college I went to didn’t offer German, though, so I took Spanish.  It was a lot easier than German.  But where was the challenge?  That’s why I never got any good at Spanish, and why I’ve forgotten most of my German.

4.  I am allergic to bee stings.  At least that is what I understand.  I’ve only been stung once.  I don’t think it could have been a very bad reaction, but then I was only about six and the whole sequence of events is very blurry in my memory.  One minute I weas running across the grass at my grandmother’s apartment building, and then I was in extreme pain, and then everything went black.  I suppose if I went under hypnosis, I could remember what happened next, but suffice it to say that I survived, and my mother kept a prescription of something I was supposed to take in the event that I was ever stung by a bee again, but I never was stung again, and after a while my condition, as it were, was largely forgotten.  At least we no longer had a bottle of something-and-such in the event of bee-stinging.  I don’t know how these things work, but I try not to get stung by bees anyway.  Bees are scary.

5.  I’ve seen the movie Staying Alive five times.  No, not Saturday Night Fever–though I have seen that, too–but the utterly stupid and forgettable sequel, Staying Alive.  Well, it would have been forgettable except that I saw it five times.  In the theater.  In my defense, this was back in the day of the double feature.  I think that movie played with just about everything else I saw that summer.  And yes, I do have the soundtrack.  It’s around somewhere, although it hasn’t aged quite as well as you’d expect.  Which reminds me, my older sister was at a public event around that time, and Frank Stallone was there.  She said she got his autograph for me, which was interesting, because it never would have occurred to me to want his autograph.  I only remember her showing it to me.  What happened to it after that, I don’t know.  I think she kept it.  I must not have seemed sufficiently grateful.  I have no regrets.

6.  I like to eat raw potatoes.  Not like a whole potato, but you know, when I’m cutting potatoes for a recipe, I usually eat a slice or two of raw potato, sometimes salted, sometimes not.  I can’t eat too many of them, though, or I’ll start to feel sick.  I’m the only person I’ve ever met who likes to eat raw potatoes.  I think that someday I will find more of my kind.  Maybe that time is now.  Come out of the shadows, raw potato-lovers.

7.  The person who drinks the most milk in this house is me.  Much of this is due to the peanut-butter habit, but even aside from what the peanut butter requires, I drink a lot of milk, much more than anyone else in the family.  Except when there’s powdered Ovaltine in the house.  Then my kids drink milk like it’s Kool-Aid, and all I can think is, “Augh!  You’re drinking all my milk!”  So the truth comes out.  Several people, including health professionals, have tried to talk me into switching to skim milk, but skim milk isn’t actually milk and thus I do not6 like it as well–or rather, at all.  I can tolerate 1% milk, if I have to, but 2% is really my preferred version.  (Whole milk, which delicious, is just not necessary, but I did drink it all through college because the dining hall only offered skim and whole.  I know where my priorities lie.)  So I may get fat and die of heart disease, but I will have some kick-a** bone strength in my old age.

8.  I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.  More precisely, I cannot drive a stick shift.  I certainly understand the concept of how the stick shift works.  I was highly motivated to learn how to drive a stick shift when I was a teenager because all the cars my family had were stick shifts.  My sister tried to teach me.  My mother tried to teach me.  My father tried to teach me.  I wanted to learn.  I really did.  But I couldn’t ever do it.  I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 19 because that’s when my parents finally bought a car with an automatic transmission.  (Not especially for me, but eventually they did give it to me.)  No one who can drive a stick shift believes that I understand how the stick shift works, because surely if I understood, I could drive one.  If you are one of those people who can drive a stick shift, you are doubtless thinking to yourself right now, “She’s full of crap.  She just doesn’t get how the stick shift works.  You ease up on the clutch as you press down on the gas.”  And you’re probably moving your hands in front of you to show me how one goes down as the other goes up, as if I’ve never seen that before.  No, I’ve seen it.  I just can’t do it.  It’s a coordination things.  My father once asked me how I could play the piano so well and yet not have the coordination to operate a stick shift.  The thin about the piano is that it doesn’t have a transmission.  If I make an error in timing, it isn’t going to refuse to play for me. The piano is a very forgiving instrument.  The stick shift is like a woman scorned.  I won’t play her games.

The last few times I’ve tagged people, about 75% of the people I tagged were already tagged by somebody else, and I felt really lame.  And when it comes to feeling lame, I really don’t need any help.  So if you wanna be It, be It.  Declare yourself.  I’ll chase you down afterward.

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