My first ever passport expired in December and to ensure that I had continuous flee-the-country coverage, I made sure to get a new one. It just arrived.
I’m intrigued (and yet also disappointingly bored) by this opportunity to see the same photograph of myself replicated ten years later.
I have definitely gotten more orange over the years. But my smirk remains consistent.
I’m not totally sold on the concept of babies.
But weird kids are pretty rad.
you know how mostly people don’t sing out loud?
except for some people who think that they are awesome possum singers and will happily (for no reason) belt out “my heart will go on,” like for realz style, with full on vibrato and commitment. those people gross me out. i ralph on their heads. they can just go back to my bad dreams of being shunned by the high school show choir.
but regular, every day, i’m happy and you know and i-can’t-get-this-song-out-of-my-head-so-i’ma-sing-it-for-you? more people should do that.
I have Oh Sheila running on a perpetual loop in my head. At all times. But I only know “oh! oh sheila! let me love you til the morning comes.” Which will sometimes escape from me at random times.
https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify:track:6NCQ4F3fPiqgTilD1t4rrU
And lately, I’ve had a hankering for Sara, that old Starship song. This version is slightly suck, but still. With fire and ice, the dream will come true.
https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify:track:6V775dYuMO5BKjo9C3nhqL
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I had to get headshots taken at work, since I started writing some of the blog posts there. I guess if I say something really good, they need to have a picture ready so that you can bask in my smirk and my words of clever simultaneously.
The photos were taken my Jay Graham, a local professional photographer with breathtakingly amazing work – who also happens to be the husband of a coworker.
The photo session was pretty quick. There were just two rounds, one looking off to the side and one looking at the camera. In each round, I think the expression on my face just got more and more skeptical, so the first one of each batch was the best.
He was gracious enough to let me use them for my own personal plastering, hence this is now my avatar for everywhere.
And this one is just extra, with one squinty eye and one less squinty eye because that’s the best way to see you through the interwebs.
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1. My great-great-grandfather Giuseppi fell off a donkey cart and died.
2. Grandpa Joe, on my other side of the family, tried to raise chinchillas in the basement and they went rampant.
3. My nephew calls me Uncle Buggles.
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I came across this message on the sidewalk of my street this morning.
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1. I just tried to use the word kniving in a sentence. It looked so weird that I started to doubt whether it was even a real word. Which, of course, it is – but only if you spell it conniving.
2. I had an opportunity to use the word conniving in an email to my boss type person today.
3. You’re more likely to hurt yourself with a dull knife than a sharp one.
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Another week of Little Facts, brought to you by Rebecca with an R and the mental stylings of Maggie, this time circa 1988.
Once upon a time I could:
1. Walk on stilts.
2. Skin a deer.
3. Recite Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven in its entirety.
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I’m still ruminating over my recent visit with the fam on the other side of the country, so am purging some ruminating here.
1. My mother is a fraternal twin. My brothers are fraternal twins. Since having fraternal twins is genetic and is passed down through daughters (boys always, um, eject multiple chances for babies. girls *usually* just release one egg at a time.) I have a high probability of having twins if I ever have kids.
2. I hate the theme song to NPR’s morning addition. When we were kids, the radio was always on in the kitchen while we were eating breakfast. For whatever reason, this was a high anxiety time in our household and I associate that annoying little trumpet tune with Angry-Dad yelling about Bus-Time!
3. Speaking of breakfast, we were only ever allowed to have Cheerios or Rice Krispies and I’m pretty certain that both are just gross on purpose. This is probably why breakfast time was so angsty; eating this flavorless cardboard cereal was like medieval torture. One time, my mother bought us Nerds cereal. Who knows why. It was a miracle. There was much fanfare and heathen dancing to thank our cereal gods. When the existing box of evil boring Cheerios was finally finished, we knew it was Nerds cereal time the next day. Except it turns out that one of the brothers had fallen ill. Pukey little kid ill. But he could not be deterred and partook in the sweet sugar and red dye with us. 5 minutes later, he went running to the bathroom to have some pukey little kid time, but didn’t make it and ralphed on our hideous, 70’s, gold shag carpet. There was a big pink stain on that carpet evermore.
Rebecca from Rebecca with an R is the grand master pooba of little facts. Check out her site to learn more and link in!
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margaret edith 