25 Random Things About Me (ala FaceBook)

1. I will not answer chain letters, in fact, this FaceBook ice-breaker very much resembles a chain letter in the way one is “urged” to send it to 25 “friends” with the blah-blah to continue the m. m…, oh never mind…

2. Sorry. Random point number two: my ability to speak too soon, too much, an exaggerated sense of being right, however, in counterbalance to this outburst, rest assured, I may never call you by name because I am phobic about calling people the wrong name.

3. But really, I think I am nice.

4. Genuinely pleased to meet you; I am a dyed in the sunshine optimist: I wake up happy, I am nearly always happy and rarely disappointed.

5. This allusion to disappointment brings me to the fact that when I was small my greatest wish was to be ballerina, play the piano, and be a car-hop at the A&W. Mind you, if I didn’t have a type A dominant vanity gene that made my true heart long to one day be considered beautiful, then the ballerina part wouldn’t be hard at all. I still think that kind of movement is the human form at its finest. But my father was right—ballerinas have few prima jobs after 25 and the best beauty grows through pain.

6. My skin is letting go.

7. Intellect was the highest value in our family, yes please, mind over matter.

8. Iowa Basic Skills tests in fourth grade determined I was not as smart as my older brother and sister in math and science. I scored well in English. I asked my mama what I could do with THAT and she said, “You could be a writer.” I could think of nothing more boring than being a writer unless it was being a minister.

9. Even so, at age 3 I would don a tutu and get my music box. In front of the big picture window I’d dance whenever the sun went behind a cloud. Sometimes God was pleased and the sun came out.

10. I made it through two years of confirmation in the Congregational Church without being able to answer the question, who is Jesus?

11. Young Life answered that for me in high school. Slid into faith like a leotard, well, perhaps faith, doesn’t exactly slide on, but it fits like tights: sucks you in, keeps you warm, and you can still see who you really are.

12. The best evidence of God, no, the best evidence of Love, came from a prayer I prayed for five years before it was answered.

13. OK, I admit it. I wrote poetry and played the guitar all through college. Didn’t sing loud enough to be heard and never showed the poetry to anyone.

14. I resigned myself to not take art in high school because I didn’t think I had the “gift”, only took an art class in college because I couldn’t get anything better than a C in Anthropology, my major. The best thing I’ve learned in my whole wide life (not counting the revelation about Jesus) is that you can LEARN art. Makes me happy just thinking about it.

15. It makes me happy to help people find that they can do what they never thought they could.

16. Green—celery green to be specific.

17. I’ve prayed, please please can I be a good singer in heaven?

18. I cry nearly every time I sing.

19. Did I tell you how much I love Dana? More than that. Much more. What does that mean—to the sky and back?

20. I have dreams that I can fly.

21. I have a black hair that grows out of my chin like a witch.

22. Dogs more than cats only by a whisker.

23. The older I get the more literal I take the Bible. I’ve already put my eggs in that basket, what, do you think God will reprimand me for great expectations?

24. I have been praying another certain prayer for a long long time…

25. Is there anything better than climbing into a warm bed?

And waking next to the one you love most in the world?

Addendum:
I love to laugh. Good humor is one of life’s best remedies (BTW bathroom humor is NOT humor. A cheap imitation). I am amused at so much in this world, but I find it exceedingly difficult to explain said amusement. Case in point: while at a lake cabin as a child I was following a friend down a narrow path around the lake—tangles of undergrowth all around. Suddenly she stopped and bent over (as I ran into her). Without a word she reached down and pulled the tongue completely out of her saddle shoe, held it up momentarily, then bent over and pulled the other one out of the other shoe. She didn’t laugh. I am still amused forty-four years later.