Wendy from “Life with Buck” tagged me for a meme. A meme is sort of like a chain letter but without the death threats. It’s when you write about a theme and tag people whom you hope will do the same.
In this meme, you’re supposed to do the following:
1) Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
2) Share 7 facts about yourself.
3) Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
4) Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
#1 Meme is what I called my grandmother and what my children called my mother. It is French
slang for grandmother. So when I saw the meme thing I thought I was supposed to write about my mother and my grandmother. I guess not. But I had been shopping all day and my brain was addled. The photo is of my mother(Meme) and Gubby, my father. Speaking of my mother, she once washed out my mouth with soap when I was probably only four for swearing. I doubt that I even understood what I had said. But I got the soap anyway. My sister is six years older than me and my brother is 8 years older so I probably got the word from them. They also once, when I was a little older tried to get me to say all the swear words I knew. Thank goodness my mother didn’t find out about that. My mother is probably rolling over in her grave because I say motherfucker about 20 times a day.
2. I don’t condone driving drunk. Please remember that when you read this. When I was about 18 years old my best friend, Nancy, and I used to hang around Brown University looking for guys. We lived about a half hour away. Well, we went to a frat party and then got very, very, drunk and realized we had to drive home. We ended up driving the car together. I did the gas and the brakes and she did the steering, most of the time. I occasionally had to grab the wheel if we got too close to the trees. As we approached my house we saw a sawhorse in the road with flashing lights on it warning us of a pothole. We stopped and put it in the trunk of the car. When we got to my house we put it in my backyard near the woods where we thought my father wouldn’t see it. But of course the next day he saw the flashing lights and couldn’t imagine how it got there. It was always a mystery to him because I never told him the truth. The real mystery is how we managed to get home alive without cracking up the car and why we took the sawhorse in the first place.
3. I hate cartoons. I didn’t like them when I was a kid and I don’t like them now. I really don’t know why I don’t like them. When my kids were little I would leave the room whenever they had cartoons on. I also despised Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers made me nauseous. My daughter loved cartoons, My Little Pony, Rainbow Brite. Sometimes she would want me to watch them with her and being a good mother I did and hated every minute of it. I did like Howdy Doody when I was a kid. But he wasn’t a cartoon. I guess I could tolerate puppets. My favorite show as a kid was Miss Francis’ Schoolhouse. Now that was 54 years ago, give or take. That’s where I learned how to make paste out of flour and water. I also learned how to make something out of Ivory Snow laundry detergent and water but I can’t remember what it was. Barbara might remember.
4. I loved Algebra so much in high school, that at night I would go out on our front porch and do Algebra problems just for fun. Once in high school they gave a logarhythm problem to everyone in all the math classes. I was the only one to get it correct in the whole high school. Now I can’t even remember what a logarhythm is.
5. When I was twelve, my girlfriend and I were playing Barbie dolls on a blanket in her yard. It was a beautiful summer day. Her Barbie was in love with President Kennedy. I don’t think my Barbie loved anyone but herself. Anyway , we were both looking down at the blanket, trying to decide what our Barbies should be wearing for an evening out when I looked up at Nancy and there was a big black and white cow standing about one foot behind her. I screamed, she screamed (not really knowing why ) and even the cow screamed in a mooish sort of way. We lived right down the street from Cumberland farms and I don’t mean the store. We lived in Cumberland, R.I. right down the street from the Cumberland farms cows and they had gotten loose. The rest of the herd was rampaging through the backyards of all the little ranch houses on our street. I remember slowly getting up and then it was one for all and all for one. I ran like hell not looking back to see what happened to Nancy. She could have been trampled for all I knew. This wasn’t my first run in with a cow. Down the road a piece was another cow, the only cow these people owned and one day after school he got loose and started chasing me down the road. I dropped my bookbag and made it home and had to send my brother back for my bag. So I never took any chances with cows. When I saw one I ran.
6. I don’t know how to swim. Imagine living 1 mile from the best beaches on Cape Cod and not knowing how to swim. I flunked swimming lessons when I was 12 years old. That’s the same year the cows were always after us. Could there be a connection? Nah! I just think I have an unresonable fear of the water. Both my kids swim like fish. As a matter of fact, my son is a fisherman. He’s a first mate on charter boats when he can get the jobs. It’s amazing they ever learned how to swim. I couldn’t even go with them when they learned. A neighbor of mine taught them down at the pond where we live and their father also helped to teach them. I’m glad I didn’t lay that fear on them.
7. I am an internet junkie, a food junkie (though I’ve lost 50 lbs.) and the worst one–I am a reality TV show junkie. I will watch almost any reality TV show. Of course there are some I like more than others, but I will watch them all. I doubt that there are any I haven’t seen. I’ve watched some that are so bad the network took them off before they even finished. It ‘s probably the same reason I spy on my neighbors. I have been known to hide in the bushes in our front yard with binoculars so I could see what was going on across the street. It’s a welfare house and some very shady people have lived there. I can’t count the number of times the police have been there or at other houses on my street (including mine, more than once because of my son) . It makes life interesting though. I have a police scanner so I can keep track of what’s going on. I can’t stand it when I don’t know what’s going on. I am really the Fly on the Wall. Watch out for me, you never know where I’ll land.
OK, there’s my seven . But I don’t know one other person with a blog except Wendy and I can’t send this back to her.At least she and my sister will read it.