Seven random/weird/miscellaneous facts about Stefanie (you know, in addition to the 327 already buried somewhere in my archives):
- I have never been anywhere close to fluent in Spanish, and yet, certain Spanish phrases regularly pop into my head in response to various things. "Que ganga," I'll think, when something is particularly a bargain. "Listos?" I'll ask instead of just saying, "We ready?" Possibly the strangest, though, is how often I start an inner dialog with "El eso es..." I'm not examining the rest of my thoughts in Spanish, so I have no idea why my brain begins with, "The thing is..." in Spanish, and yet, for some reason, it often does.
- A few weeks ago, in my Stations of the Cross post, I mentioned playing the flute in grade school, and the woman I know as "Vermont Stefanie" left what was one of my favorite comments ever in reply. "I'd have pegged you more as an oboist, or maybe a cellist. Something more mysterious and complicated," she said. Mysterious and complicated. I love it. Again, if I were a tag line sort of girl, "I'm mysterious and complicated" would be another fine tag line for my blog. Anyway, in response to that comment, I thought I should explain exactly why I picked the flute, way back when fifth-grade me signed up for band. I had actually been leaning towards the saxophone, but since several of my friends were taking flute, that seemed like a good choice, too. So how did I pick? Well, I rode the bus to and from school every day, and I thought about carrying a saxophone case on the bus several times a week, and then thought about carrying a much smaller and less cumbersome flute case instead, and flute seemed like the obvious choice. You know, it's memories like those that make me realize I have always been the practical-to-a-fault over-thinker I am today. I didn't grow into this as an adult; even as a kid I was too sensible for my own good.
- Somewhere buried in the "100 Things" list I wrote ages ago is a line that says "You will never, ever hear me say 'Let's go dancing!'" This is true. I hate to dance in public. I will attempt to play along and be a good sport on occasion, particularly at weddings or when sufficient alcohol is involved, but I never feel comfortable or confident about it. At home, though? At home, when the right song comes on the radio, I love to dance. Unfortunately, the dancing I do is in no way suitable for public viewing. There is kicking and jumping and side-to-side bopping. There are many wild arm gestures. As far as I'm concerned, this is the only way dancing is fun, but I will not let anyone (except possibly--inadvertently--my across-the-street neighbors) see me do it.
- Much as I complain about shoveling when it snows, I actually sort of like shoveling at night. It's so dark and peaceful--the only light is from the streetlights and the only noise is the sound of my shovel scraping against the sidewalk and the similar scrapes from neighbors' shovels down the block. It's almost meditative, and though I have no interest in making time for shoveling every night (You hear that, snow? Don't go getting any ideas, OK??), as a once-in-a-while thing, it's actually sort of calming and nice.
- Jingle Bell Rock has long been one of my very least favorite Christmas songs, but at some point in my childhood, I must have actually liked it, because I chose it to play for the Christmas piano recital one year. Our teacher believed in the Suzuki "learn by ear" method, and she instructed us all to pick a Christmas song and learn to play it without any sheet music. Our parents and other guests at the recital were to guess what each song was. My sister won some sort of prize for stumping the audience... not because she wrote her song so poorly it was unrecognizable but because she picked a relatively obscure one--the song the Whos of Whoville sang in How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
- As a kid I was irrationally afraid of flies. Not even the giant biting kind, but just regular tiny houseflies. My mom still enjoys telling people about the day she came running outside to my blood-curdling scream expecting to see me missing a limb or something, only to find that I was wailing only because a fly had landed on my arm. I cannot explain this; all I can say is thankfully I'm over it by now.
- Whenever I'm on an airplane, I order orange juice or ginger ale. Planes are typically the only place I drink either of those.
The follow-up to this meme is that I'm to tag five other people to participate, but I think most of you have probably already done this one by now. If you haven't (or if you have but want to do it again), feel free to consider yourself tagged. Leave me a note in the comments if you do it and I'll be sure to stop by to see your list!