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La Belette Rouge, (The Red Weasel), a delightful Francophile blogger I discovered while shamelessly trolling for Francophile blogs in order to promote Francophilia, and with whom I’ve had some lovely exchanges lately, has tagged me to do a “10 Random Things About Me” post.

Et pourquoi pas ? It’s a bit narcissistic, but all in good fun. I guess it can give an impressionistic view of who you are and where your head is, like a word association test (always wished someone would give me one of those and then tell me the key to myself).

I kind of went the random-things route in the last paragraph of the About Me for this blog, mostly just because I was at a loss. But when I wrote that, I felt like I was digging through the jewelry box I’ve had since I was 14 and picking out treasures to show a friend.

So in addition to those gems, here are 10 more random items from the jewelry box…

  1. …in which I have all of my son’s baby teeth. I wanted a little red-headed boy and I got one. Now he’s a big red-headed boy (6′1″).
  2. I cross my right leg over my left.
  3. I hate getting phone calls. I’d rather get an e-mail. (Except in the case of about four people on the planet.) I’d rather write than talk in general.
  4. If I had to decide what to eat for a last meal it would be Brie, ripe kiwis and avocados, cheese fries from that snack bar in Balboa Park right outside the Spanish Village, a bean burrito from El Indio, and beer.
  5. When I was 12, I had a pet kingsnake I named Hamlet.
  6. I had five wisdom teeth. That means I’m wiser than most. Unless the fact that I had them all pulled means I’m not wise at all.
  7. I have five tiny rings on my left pinkie that never come off. One of them is an art deco ruby and diamond ring that belonged to my great-grandmother, who was born in 1894. The other four are tiny bands I got in Hawaii. Size 3.5.
  8. Said pinkie and its counterpart are crooked because of some chromosome malfunction that makes the inside tendon of the last joint short and which has something to do with English aristocracy. I read it in a medical textbook when I was doing research for my master’s thesis, a translation of a breastfeeding guide. But I’m sure whatever ancestor it was was just some blueblood’s exploited servant.
  9. I miss Virgil, my redbone coonhound. My 6 year-old niece asked what his middle name was and I told her it was Spaghetti. It was. Long story. But the kind of thing you’d expect from someone whose mother named her poodle Popsickle.
  10. I hate memes. But I really like the weasel, so I’m making an exception. It wasn’t that painful for me. Hope it wasn’t for you.

That’s it, party’s over. I’m tagging Antwerp Calling. (Feel free to ignore the tag, but pass it along if you know someone who’d enjoy playing!)

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