twist my arm

Nah, no behind the scenes coercion from my friend Lisa, but she tagged me in a 'six random things' meme and, well, I'm feeling particularly amenable and generous today. So generous that I treated my children to cookies at the bakery and small toys at the toy store. And then said Yes! to pie after dinner. You'd think it was my birthday or something. . .

I almost passed because it feels like I've exhausted every random fact about me, magnifying every pore in frightening proportion, describing my last tic and quirk with the most tedious detail, but then I remembered, wait! That's over there, in my little basement speak easy, with the secret knock and dark windows. This space is less familiar, I'm more guarded, deliberate. It feels a little like I'm talking to myself in the city park here, anyone could be listening, but are they?

1. I do, in fact, talk to myself. So blogging to myself wouldn't be such a stretch. When I make some sort of a clumsy gaffe (hello too much political commentary!), I grumble, "april!" and, I must admit, it's the only time I hear my name and it doesn't take me a couple beats to go, oh! that's me. You'd think after all these ::cough, 33:: years, I'd be right attached to it.

2. I love old polyester old lady shirts best. Not any old polyester shirt. But I can sometimes see one from a distance at a thrift store and know, in the cut and the fabric, that it's the one. I have a number of these favorite shirts. I wore my newest one today:

And, as a bonus: here's a post from last year wherein I wrote about this same thing and there's another picture of me in an old lady shirt in front of my same orange wall. (creature, habit, yeah yeah yeah).

3. I sing Amazing Grace to my son every night. If he's having a hard time falling asleep, he might get the extended lullaby selection, the order of which I developed when my girl was wee and took, in her very spirited child way, a long, long time to zonk out each night. So mostly, it's just the one song, but it might be some traditional churchy songs (Jesus loves me, etc), fading into a patriotic medley, then on to Dream a Little Dream of Me (hey, I'm no Mama Cass, but I try), and finishing it up with either Cat Steven's Moonshadow or The Counting Crows' The Rain King. My repertoire is limited.

4. I abstained from eating any overt cow dairy for nearly a decade. And then, in the last week, I willfully and knowingly ate some. Twice. Pizza. What next? (bacon.)

5. I am a horrible knitter. I learned how years ago, from a combination of looking at a kid's knitting book and seeing one demonstration from my friend, Sarah. I jumped right into my first project and have been knitting along, so slowly ever since. But I never seem to get more than one or two little things made a year and my skills stagnated at very beginner level and I still can't follow a pattern and I know so many superknitters, it's a little embarrassing to be the lone less-than-mediocre knitter working with plastic needles and lion brand yarn on a stockinette scarf. So be it. (oh, okay, so mostly I have wooden ones, but plastic sounds more dramatic).

6. My father was born on the 23rd of November on his mother's 23rd Birthday. Several of his siblings are born on the 23rd (of different months), as well. I was born on the 23rd of October. This same grandmother died on the 23rd of October, 2000. I have a special relationship with the number 23.

(i was always the sort to break chain letters. the golden books pass alongs when i small, the postcard kind when i was older, and definitely the email forwards now. so, on the basis of consistent principles, i respectfully do not tag anyone, but do tell me something about yourself, if you're so inclined).