I Yam What I Yam

Several of the bloggers I follow have posted blog entries telling readers a little more about themselves than they would find on their "About" page. Since there is virtually nothing ON my "About" page, here are a few facts you can mentally pencil in. (Since most of my readers actually KNOW me, I'm not sure I can come up with much to surprise them.)

Who am I, anyway?

I have three hard and fast rules that I will not break regarding my children, particularly relating to sports or other competitions. I will not wear a shirt that says "______'s Mom". I will not write messages on my car. (Have seen such delights as "Go, Caitlyn! Shake it, baby!" on a minivan at a dance competition for kids 12 and under. That's just wrong on so many levels.) And I will not go "woo!" I am not, nor will I ever be, a Woo Girl. (This includes wooing during  Zumba.)

Robin and the Woo Girls, "How I Met Your Mother"

I hate, hate, HAAAAAAAATE coffee. I hate the way it tastes. I hate the way it smells. I hate the way it looks. I hate it when someone tries to get me to taste something that "just has a little coffee in it - you won't even taste it." YES, I WILL! BECAUSE IT'S DISGUSTING AND CANNOT BE HIDDEN IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER.

I collect snow globes. Not fancy, music box snow globes, but the cheap, plastic ones that you find at souvenir shops. Or try to find them. They aren't easy to find these days. I look for one everywhere we travel. I love snow globes so much that, if I find out YOU are going somewhere I haven't been before, I will probably ask you to bring me one back with you. (Ironically, although they are MADE in China, you cannot BUY one in China. Not that I've ever been to China. But I know someone who has....)

I love to sing. I sing in the car like I'm a rock star. I sing in the shower. I sing when I'm cleaning the house. I just DON'T do it in front of other people. Except for preschoolers. They don't judge. (And Melissa, who, by virtue of her job helping me with the preschoolers, is subject to my singing as well. Sorry, Melissa.)

I don't have a poker face. And I'm a terrible liar. I blame it on the dimples. They always give me away.

While I am very patient with preschoolers, I'm very impatient with other things in life. I touch wet  paint. I open the oven door multiple times to peek at what's baking. I CAN'T WAIT for the microwave timer to get to zero. I flip hamburgers and pancakes too soon. I make a right on red and take a different route to avoid sitting at a red light. My nail polish always has a finger print in it from checking it. I refresh my facebook page, blog stats, and email a hundred times a day (well, that might be a slight exaggeration). 

I love to read, especially murder mysteries. In fact, I get so involved in the mysteries that I read that SOMETIMES, I dream I have killed someone and hidden the body. HEY, THEY'RE JUST DREAMS, PEOPLE! RELAX!

I'm a fairly good cook when I'm in the mood. (Too bad for my family that I'm not in the mood more often.)  I'm even better at the fun stuff. I love to bake: cookies, cakes, muffins, breads. I also make candy (like, for real, with a candy thermometer and everything). Except divinity. Can't make divinity. I can also decorate cakes, if the need arises. And I make the best caramel popcorn you will ever eat. No lie.

I've only thrown up three times in my entire life. The first time was when I was in kindergarten. Second time was when I was 7 and got my tonsils out (I SAID it was a sad story). The third (and final) time was December 23, 1971. I was in 6th grade. It was so very horrible that I vowed it would never happen again. And it hasn't. There were naysayers that said I wouldn't make it through pregnancy without throwing up, and when I was pregnant with my son, there was even an office pool to predict when that would happen. NO ONE WON. I'm in it for the long haul.

I have food rules. Many food rules. Like my food can't touch (I have divided plates to prevent this). And I eat one food at a time from my plate, after tasting each one first and determining the order of preference (least to best - which is the opposite of my dad, who eats the best thing first, then the best of what's left, continuing that way because, he theorizes, he is always eating the best thing on his plate that way, even when it gets down to something he doesn't like). My hamburgers have to be plain and well done. Except for McDonald's ones, which I eat as-is. I hate cheese on my burger. And don't even get me STARTED on celery. I separate M&Ms and jellybeans into colors before eating them (by color, of course). Three Musketeers bars?  I eat the chocolate coating off first, of course. Eggs are for holding cake batter and cookie dough together and never to be consumed on their own. When eating out, all sauces must go on the side, because chances are I'm not going to like them anyway. I only drink milk if it's in a real glass (no plastic). I don't drink soda out of a can or bottle. Must. Have. Ice. There are more, I assure you. IT'S AN ENDEARING QUIRK.

Now that you know all this, don't you feel us growing closer...?