I, however, don’t have a 100 Things page on my blog. When I first set up my space (not to be confused with MySpace) back in August 2006, I began a 100 Things About Myself List on the back page of one of my writing journals. And from time to time, when I think of a somewhat unique or interesting factoid about myself, I add it to the list.

Now, nearly two years later, I have a list of probably less than forty somewhat unique and/or interesting factoids on my list because that’s just how unique and/or interesting I’m not.

Anyway, since I may not amass a complete list to share with my readers prior to the commencement of the sweet, sweet rapture, I thought I’d share a few highlights with you today. And we’re off…

1. At age thirteen, I was hospitalized for ten days with Toxic Shock Syndrome after using a tampon I found under my grandmother’s sink. A RELY TAMPON. The interesting part? I diagnosed myself using the information I had read a million times on the Tampax insert. My doctor at the time said if I had gone another twenty-four hours without antibiotics I probably wouldn’t have lived. Two lessons you should take from my story: first, never use your grandmother’s tampons, and second, choose your toilet reading material wisely since it could someday save your life.
2. I am an excellent knee driver. I can hold my venti vanilla nonfat wet cappuccino in my left hand, dial my therapist’s office with my right, and still safely navigate the streets of Tulsa with one knee. It’s amazing to see. I have mad superhero-like knee driving skillz. For reals. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
3. I love to fly. LOVE. In fact, I love the whole process of traveling by airplane. Being in an airport and walking through the terminals, peoplewatching while waiting to board, taking off, ascending, flying above the clouds, descending, touching down, changing terminals, ALL OF IT. And I think above all I love the idea that I can walk onto a plane in one place and three-and-a-half hours later walk off into a completely different place. A place with a different climate and different landscape. A place that would have been two days’ drive. LOVE THAT.
4. I am the dictionary definition of a jack of all trades, master of none.  I can learn how to do almost anything really well and very quickly by skimming a how-to book. A few examples: knitting, crochet, sewing, embroidery, car/computer/iPod repair, CSS/HTML, Sudoku, bookbinding, screenprinting, Bonsai gardening etc. etc. etc. The problem is that once I learn something new I usually get bored of doing it very quickly. Like how I got bored of cooking in 1983. And how I’m bored with this blog post.

Okay quid pro quo time. What’s unique and/or interesting about you? Do share.

“What?” he says, smiling.

“You get to fall asleep and wake up with pretty much your best friend in the world,” I say.

Rob’s smile grows.

“Like throughout junior high and high school,” I continue, “my best friend Angie and I slept over at each other’s house every Friday and Saturday night and the two of us would crowd into her twin-sized waterbed and talk and giggle for hours until one of us fell asleep listening to the other one talk. And in the morning her green parakeet, Pickle, would wake us up at the crack of dawn and we would scream at Pickle to ‘SHUT!UP!’ but then we’d be awake so we would just start talking and giggling again.”

“Hmm,” Rob says with a little laugh.

“And that’s what it’s like with you and me now. We start and end every day talking and laughing and it’s awesome because it’s like spending the night at your best friend’s house every night,” I finish.

Rob stifles more laughter and says, “Yup.”

“Alright. What is SO DAMN FUNNY?” I demand.

“Nothing,” he replies, “I just thought the best part about being married was not having to pay for blow jobs anymore.”

And then I killed him.

The end.

————

EDITED TO ADD: Rob says that he was only kidding and that he never, in reality, actually paid for a blow job and he insists that I tell you that. So, yeah, for the record Rob never actually paid for a blow job. I suspect he would knock the prostitute unconscious and steal his twenty back.

And other days I think oh my god the time isn’t going fast enough.
Take yesterday for example.

My internal clock roused me from a good night’s sleep at 9:15 a.m. The downstairs was very quiet and I could hear water running in the upstairs bathroom.

Unbeknownst to me, Rob had left for the gym at 8:30 without so much as a warning that the only people awake and in charge of the three- and six-year-old were the three- and six-year-old. And the dog.

I would be the one to pay for his information omission since while I slept apparently the dog didn’t have enough sense to stop the girls from standing in the middle of the kitchen floor and cracking nine eggs (NINE. EGGS. NIIIIINE.) over one another’s heads, rubbing their bodies with the yolks and whites (of NINE EGGS) and then trying to conceal their crime by smearing the runoff (of — did I mention — NINE EGGS) into the whole of my hardwood kitchen floor then dripping their way through the house to the upstairs bathroom to wash off the evidence before I busted them.

On days like that, I find myself wondering if the local inpatient psychiatric hospital takes walk-ins. And I find myself thanking the sweet baby Jesus that at least they didn’t experiment with putting the dog in the dryer.

A thunderstorm had blown through town in the wee hours of the morning sending Emma into Rob’s and my bed and Katelynn into Jenna’s. Everyone was still fast asleep as Jake and I headed out to the high school football stadium.

Outside, the skies to the north and east were that deep shade of dark purple-blue that warns of so much more to come, while pastel pink and blue clouds that might have been oil-painted by the masters (or by THE Master) filled the western and southern skies.

The city streets stretching the three-and-a-half miles between our home and the school were polished ebony and traffic on them was non-existent as the rest of our busy metropolis either slept or readied themselves for another Monday. In a haze of drowsiness, Jake and I rode in silence.

I dropped him off and took the long way home, driving more slowly than is my habit and pulling over briefly in some doctor’s office parking lot to really take in the absolute natural beauty of a scene Hollywood uses millions of dollars in technology to reproduce.

And the stillness was inspiring.

I could climb a mountain . . . write a book . . . run a marathon . . . cure cancer . . . raise four children into happy well-adjusted adults.

In the quiet, anything was possible. IS possible.

Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow is a mystery.
Today is a gift; that’s why they call it the present.

Oogway, Kung Fu Panda (2008)
Eleanor Roosevelt (1884 - 1962)

Squeeze your babies and have a great weekend.