Archives For November 30, 1999

Seven facts about myself

August 19, 2012

Taking a cue from one of my favorite bloggers, Kate from 365til30.com, I’ve accepted the challenge, “share seven unknown facts about yourself.” Enjoy the randomness of my bean spilling below and then repay me by sharing your list.

1. I am a borderline trypophobic. No idea what trypophobia is? Neither did I until I searched “pattern phobia” on Google and viewed pictures that made my skin crawl. My cousins and I have talked about our shared squeamishness for clustered patterns. An image of bees crawling out of honeycomb gives us the dry heaves. Then there’s crap like this…

…I can’t explain it. If you can look at this photo and have absolutely no reaction, then congratulations for not being a freak. If the above image deeply disturbs you, well, welcome to my world.

2. I check my purse at least twice before I lock my van. Even when I am absolutely positive I have my keys in there, I still feel compelled to double-check. I have only locked my keys in the inside of an automobile once in my life. I also unbuckle my seat belt before coming to a complete stop when parking my car. If I’m lucky, that saves me two seconds in my day. Weird, right?

3. I get teary eyed every time I see a baby being born or any athlete (at any age) making a huge play.

4. I often trap flies in my house and then take them outside to release them.

5. I don’t miss my children being babies one bit. I secretly feel like that makes me an awful mom. But I don’t care. Parenting is a lot easier when children can sleep through the night and control their bowel movements.

6. I have grown to distrust the medical community. My grandmother passed away in a nursing home due to negligence. I had a botched c-section by a trusted OB-GYN. And my son just had his “waterproof” cast removed, revealing his bone had healed but his skin was severely blistered and irritated.

7. I love sleep over almost anything else in life.

Rock star reflection

July 1, 2012

You know the best part about blogging? You can brain dump all you want. It’s therapeutic really. Readers and fellow bloggers typically know within the first few sentences if your post is worth their time. I won’t guarantee this one will trip your trigger, but here goes.

I initially came out here to write about how I always thought it would have been cool to date a rock star (or at least a member of a band, preferably lead singer or guitarist…what does that say about me?) at some point in my younger years. When I opened WordPress to jot down these super deep thoughts, I noticed I had 375 views to my last post about starting a new career and that the total number of people who elect to follow every time I ramble is growing.

Who’s the rock star now?!

I launched maternalmedia back on February 19, 2012 with the entry, It’s about time I visited your sacred space. For the past several years, I have loved reading other people’s brain dumps and I sort of hoped I would be considered unique or (dare I say it?) interesting in the blogosphere.

It feels pretty damn amazing to know that I have readers who enjoy following my entries. So, more than anything else, I wanted to say thank you.

But, let’s get back to the original topic: Why did I never date anyone in a band? I know now that band guys are a different breed based on conversations I’ve had with women who have either dated or married them.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t they tend to be a little needy? And super interested in their personas? If there’s one thing I know about my attraction or lack thereof to the opposite sex, it is this: A dude cannot take longer than I do to get ready to go out.

My husband takes 20 minutes on average to head out the door if that tells you anything.

What kind of band member would I have dated had we crossed paths before I met the love of my life? My good friends know that my number 1 crush is on Chris Daughtry, but Chris Martin from Cold Play lands a close second.

I got to meet Chris Daughtry when he and his band visited Omaha earlier this summer. Unfortunately (for me), he is pretty short. And I am a tall glass of water in heels. That’s the more polite description versus Amazon Woman.

I hope his wife, Deanna, understands my fixation with her husband is all in fun. Thankfully, my husband does.

I literally just learned tonight thanks to Wikipedia that Chris Martin is married to Gwyneth Paltrow. Sooo, he likes tall blondes? Hhhmmmm. Interesting.