I have done a few "
Getting to Know You" style
posts on this blog. Mostly because, when the blog award craze was at its zenith, those accompanying questionnaires were invariably part of the chain-letter equation. In answering those questionnaires, my tendency of course, is to put my best face forward so it looks like my life is just one giant whirl of glamorous parties and intrepid roadside adventure. (I know, you're thinking, "That's his
BEST face?!?!") Therefore, there are a few things that are still unknown to the general public and, more than probably, should remain thus. When the charismatic Jenny, from the lovely and inspirational
Everyday is a Holiday, tagged
wacky tacky in a recent
post, I threw caution, and my better judgment, to the wind and decided to play along in the "10 Things You Didn't Know About Me," game.
Highly flattered to be included in Jenny's post (somebody wants to know
more about me?), I remembered the best advice I have ever received when it comes to blogging/social media - "Keep things light, bright, and polite." Because I do my best to focus on the positive where this blog is concerned, I quickly realized that most of the things about myself that were un/lesser known were gravitating towards the negative (hence, the "anti-Carnegian" title of this post). I also saw that most of my list was directly or indirectly food-related (very telling). I hope that after reading this we can still be friends. Here goes nothin'!
TEN THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT MR. TINY
(BUT COULD PROBABLY GUESS)
1. In my early twenties I took a tap dance class with a Japanese exchange student who was living with us. I figured it was essential to becoming a well-rounded star of stage and screen. As in most dance studios, one wall was made entirely of mirrors. I always took my place in the back of the room but being the tallest person in a class populated by senior citizens, young women, and a Japanese exchange student, I could always see my bright-red face's glistening reflection bobbing above the crowd. Hoping that I would at least come away with the time step, I was disheartened to learn that ours was a "rhythm tap" class and we were to learn "street style" rather than traditional tap steps. I didn't dance out of there as the next Gene Kelly, but I will say that I was pretty darn good for a beginner. Some might even call me "a natural"...okay, one lady...just one old lady.
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| I've still got 'em! |
2. I hate waste of any kind - time, talent, food, perfectly-good tap shoes, etc. I have a few friends who always take their leftovers from restaurants home (knowing that they will never eat them) because they are afraid of the withering glance I will give them for wasting so much food. Then I think about the wasted products used to wrap the food that they're only taking home to throw away when they know I'm not looking, and I get more upset. At least give the food to someone in need, right? I particularly hate wasting time and, in a neurotic exercise of guilt, I end almost every day by reviewing all the things I
should have accomplished in my waking hours. As a result, I get an unnatural amount of satisfaction out of checking items off the to-do lists that I make for myself.
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TO-DO
1. Eat everyone's leftovers
CHECK!
(Source) |
3. I am not a vegetarian but I love vegetarian food. I have a brother who has been vegetarian/vegan for most of his life. The result is many experiences with vegetarian - particularly ethnic vegetarian - cuisine. I have never been especially fond of meat products (too many chewy bits, gristle, and blood), I'm lactose intolerant, and my policy is to never be afraid of trying new fruits/vegetables, so most veggie food is a good fit for me. I also think vegan cakes are often times superior to their non-vegan counterparts.
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Mmmmmm, caaaake!!!
(This one wasn't vegan) |
4. My international travel experiences are very limited but given the opportunity, I would move to Australia today. It is so awesome! The people are friendly, the food is delicious, and the pace is very laid back. When I was there several years ago with my sister, we were on a rather choppy ferry ride across Sydney Harbor. As the waves crested and the boat bounced, a little girl kept coyly scurrying around and shyly peering at us as we chatted. Finally, after a little encouragement from her father, she approached us and meekly asked, "Are you from Hollywood?" (imagine that in the cutest Australian accent ever). Taken aback, I asked her, "Why? Do we look like movie stars?" (HA! HA!) She replied in a dreamy, wistful manner, "No, but you talk just like they do in the movies." If that wasn't enough incentive to move to Australia, I don't know what is. We were instant celebrities!!
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My bags are packed and I'm ready to go!
(Source) |
5. I have a weird affinity for bowls and chairs (not necessarily in tandem). I could be partial to a good sofa but chairs are so dynamic, capable of creating an interesting silhouette without the bulk and broad expanses of upholstery offered by a sofa. I love slipper chairs, wingbacks, club chairs, cigar chairs, butterfly chairs - you name it! Bowls hold things - fruit, keys, matchbooks, dairy-free ice cream. There is something so wholesome about a nice bowl of soup. There is something so exciting about the anticipatory moments before a bowl is filled. There is something so gracious about a full bowl. There is something so rewarding about joyfully emptying one. Perhaps I, as I am like to do, am over thinking the whole bowl situation, but I do love them - cut glass, anodized aluminum, jadite, Pyrex, stainless mixing, wooden, drabware, etc.
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A gorgeous, two-tone, mohair, club chair with wood trim.
If it wasn't in a dang-blasted museum in West Virginia, I
definitely would have tried to fit it in my carry on. |
6. Raw wood (popsicle sticks, tongue depressors, the flat, little, poor-imitation-for-a-spoon sticks that come with those individual ice cream cups sold at the school cafeteria) makes my skin crawl. Talking about it, thinking about it, even writing about it makes me anxious. I don't have a lot of hang ups, but YECH, I can't stand those things! They make me gag.
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The stuff of nightmares.
I guess I am not alone on this one. I found this picture on
the blog of someone who shares my contempt for them.
(Source) |
7. Speaking of things that make me gag...EVERYTHING!!! Every time I go to the dentist one or both of us ends up in hysterics because the x-rays make me gag, the gauze makes me gag, the gloved fingers make me gag. It's a nightmare! Mary makes fun of me because chewing gum makes me gag. Every once in awhile, in a panicky desire to freshen my breath, I'll forget my troubles and pop in a piece of gum. Invariably, it ends in full, dry-heave gagging. Too much information???
8. I had to borrow one from Jenny's list and that is that I do not like talking on the phone. It sounds terrible to say this but it seems like such a waste of time. Using the phone to catch up with an old friend is great but for as good a multi-tasker as I think I am, I just can't talk on the phone and do something else at the same time. That's why I never talk and drive. I also find it disturbing when people talk on the phone whilst using the bathroom. Finding that I can best express myself in the written word (letters, notes, and blogging), I much prefer writing or sitting around and chatting with friends face to face.
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Can you hear me now?
No?
Good.
(Source) |
9. I am a worry wart. I do my best to not let it overcome my thoughts and actions but I have a preternatural tendency towards anxiety. I worry about the state of our society. I worry about being late. I worry about the kind of impression I make on people. I worry about how much I worry. If a friend or loved one isn't at a designated location at an appointed time, I immediately think about all the terrible things that could have gone wrong. I have made some self-guided progress recently by just telling myself to let go of all the things over which I have no control (but I worry that I'm not listening to myself).
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I like this guy's style.
(Source) |
10. I have always been relatively flexible for a large person. Many years ago, following a performance that included me dancing, singing, and dying on stage, a little old lady walked up to me and said, "I didn't know someone who looked like you could move like that." Well, as the saying goes, "The proof is in the pudding," ladies and gentlemen; standing on one foot, I can touch the toes of my other foot to my nose (using both hands and hunching over, of course). I think in yoga parlance it is called a "Full Moon Rising" or "A Fool's Moon Rising" or something like that. You can probably do it too, but I have so little; won't you please just throw me a bone?
Are you more impressed with my pathetic attempt at contortion
or how quickly I was able to recreate "Worry Warts'" outfit.
If there was a #11 on this list, it would obviously be that I have little to no shame.
I pulled this monkeyshine in full view of the whole neighborhood.
Well, I hope I didn't over share here. Are you totally turned off? Do we have much in common? Are you inspired to share ten of your
dirty, little secrets lesser-known qualities? Please fill me in on the things that I don't know about you.
Thanks to Jenny & Aaron at
Everyday is a Holiday for this introspective opportunity. Please be sure to check out their
blog,
Facebook page,
Instagram, and every other outlet where one might share in their joy and creative spirit; you'll be glad that you did!
Cheers!
Mr. Tiny
