I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I met Mark, he taught me. I’m still scared every minute I’m on one.
I do not have a tattoo. I always assumed I would regret getting one. Now I regret not getting one. I may have to remedy that.
I cannot sing. Tone deaf. I cannot play an instrument. But I need music around me.
I dated Mark 10 years before I married him.
We have been married 14 years.
I am not one to hide my age. I’m turning 52.
Mark and I go to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage festival whenever we can.
Because I love this festival, people assume I love jazz. I do not. I love blues, Cajun, zydeco, old country, folk, rock, bluegrass, and I can sometimes enjoy opera, though.
I’ve taken a lot of French classes, but I can’t seem to learn another language. This disappoints me.
My dad died at age 59. Colon cancer, I get checked.
If there are potato chips in the house, I eat them. No matter if I’m hungry.
I’d rather live in the city than in the country.
I like turtles. I think my totem is a turtle.
I like to dance. I like contra dancing, though I rarely manage to go.
When I was five, I let a boy put a worm on my tongue on a dare. I should never have let Mark know about this, he tells people about it at inopportune times.
I love art museums.
I have a builder’s license.
I love making watercolors, but only if they are 4″x6″ or smaller.
I never liked winter, but I mind it less than I ever have, even with seven properties to shovel.
When I was a child reading the comics, I read a Ripley’s Believe It or Not about a man who was frightened to death when he saw skeletons dancing. This terrified me, I was sure I would run into dancing skeletons. To reassure me, my sister explained I had a skeleton inside me. This had the opposite effect, and is where my death obsession/skeleton obsession started.
I talk to my cats, my stuffed animals, and to the tv. They are all less likely to disagree with me than my husband.
I don’t mind if you make fun of me. I do mind if you make fun of my artwork.
I am slowly getting over my phobia of telephones, though I still prefer email.
The first rock and roll concert I attended was the Rolling Stones at Cobo Hall, with my sister. We got the expensive tickets. They were $6.50 each. We had a blast!
I rarely go to big concerts anymore, Mark and I prefer smaller venues, with great music. There is plenty of that around.