Random Things PART TWO

In addition to the people who write with me in person, at weekly Writing Circles in Ithaca, more than 30 others from all over the country receive Sparks-at-Home via e-mail on Sunday mornings. Some of them sent RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME so I could compile this collective list and share it with you, dear Readers.

Much gratitude to:

Anne Killian-Russo

Barbara Brazill

Carol Bossard

Judith Stauber

Kathleen Thompson

Maggie Goldsmith

Maryam Steele

Peggy Adams

Roxanne VanWormer

Ruth Raymond

I love burning things — I'm a redheaded Aries so I just can't help it.

I used to have a fabulous feather collection, which I de-cluttered and have missed every day since.

Wolves are my favorite creatures.

I love Sharpies.

Parrots terrify me — I've been bit too many times.

Every day, I have to force myself to relax or I'll never stop moving.

I fell fully into a campfire as a child, but only slightly burned my pinky.

I love pinecones, especially the heavy ones that never opened up.

We never took a honeymoon, which I think was a mistake.

The speed of riding a bike scares me beyond reason.

I would be perfectly happy living off blueberries and watermelon.

I believe art is the most important school subject.

When I was 13, I carried poetry around in my wallet.

My tea mugs are cursed: the more I love them, the sooner they break.

I will be 32 soon and I'm still waiting to feel grown up.

I once drove off with a tractor trailer driver.

I am happiest at home.

Although I love free time, sometimes I need routine to focus me.

I still have the Barbie dolls I played with when I was young.

I set up a library in my house when I was 10 or 11 and loaned my books to friends.  

One day when my kindergarten class was on a walking field trip to see a classmate's new kittens, I ran away and made it all the way back home. 

My daughter and her friend and I were settling into "nosebleed" seats at a Bruce Springsteen Concert when a worker asked us to name 10 Bruce songs (which we did) and then we were upgraded to 2nd row center seats. 

I can waste more time than is imaginable.

I had an internet affair that ruined my marriage.

I am far too attached to my cell phone.

I am so grateful and blessed to still have my mom and dad in my life.

I can sit perfectly still for over an hour and can go for a week without speaking.

I can't sing, but I love to chant.

I love rituals, like watching the movie My Dinner with Andre every January (just one example).

I can eat anything with chopsticks.

I have slept in the Everglades surrounded by alligators.

I have read all of Proust.

I love the poetry of Pablo Neruda, Mary Oliver, Rainer Maria Rilke and Billy Collins.

I love to watch water move.

I do not like hydrangeas, or the sound of bagpipes; I hate clowns and dislike the name Debbie.

I am a devout foodie.

I spend a lot of time seeking and wandering.

I prefer the direct approach.

My feet are sexy.

My heart has sometimes been brave.

My eyes see clearly behind a camera.

I am getting better at admitting that I don't know.

I laugh without hesitation.

I love faithfully.

The first time I ate on Yom Kippur I was not struck by lightning.

   

I don't know any constellations.

I'm not afraid of horses anymore.

I've seen chickens have sex.

I was bitten three times by the same pig.

I'm afraid of cows.

I can identify several kinds of poop.

I was a Patrol Girl in sixth grade.

My first boyfriend carried my books as far as his house, then I was on my own.

I live off-grid.

I can't whistle.

I once stepped on Christopher Plummer's foot. 

In spite of my ordinarily conventional garb, I love sequins, beads and silver lamé.

Even 25 years after her passing, I still wish I could have tea, cookies and a conversation with my mother.

Every day at about noon I feel that I’d like to start the day afresh.

In spite of urging our sons to explore the world, I’d really, really like one of those Scandinavian farms where the barn is connected to the house and the children build little cottages close by.

Once I dreamed that James Baldwin, so reserved and eloquent, gave me a tour through downtown San Francisco at night.  

Last week I cut 8 ½ inches (the length of my hairbrush) from my straggly hair, and now I’m ready to cut off some more inches. 

I keep a written record of books I’ve read and what I thought about them, because then I can remember them.

I thought my mother never found my diaries, but I’ve always wondered, if she did, what did she think.

When the sky is very blue and the clouds very white, then I talk silently to my mother, who listens.

Last fall I learned the hard lesson that with catastrophe comes community.

I should love and care for my old and scarred feet because they have carried me so far for so long.

When I have felt my world has collapsed and I am oh so sad and need some solace, it’s the trees that have shown me that life goes on and is good.

I don’t cry; I don’t want to anymore, even if I need to, even if my face puckers and my eyes fill with tears.

My mother jabbered and my father was silent, and unfortunately I chose to admire only my father.

I don’t dream much because I don’t sleep for long periods, but the dreams I remember vividly after waking startle me into new thinking about my life.

My elementary school librarian gave me inspiration and direction, and years after I wrote her to thank her.

I love humor and look for it every day.

If it is fear of failure that stops me from writing that play, then there’s no reason not to continue writing it!

I took a photo of my lined face to put on Facebook and the first two people I proudly showed it to were shocked by the ugly reality of it and vetoed it.

In junior high school I won a watermelon-eating contest.

Something I know about me: transitions may tear me apart but my pieces will realign, and they may even be refreshed and polished up a bit.  

After years of writing with sharp pencils on loose paper, I am returning to a fountain pen on bound paper, just because!  

On January 13 I wrote that it was time for me to stop moping.

I am anonymous.

I  eat oatmeal porridge every day for breakfast and I never get tired of it.

Sometimes I tell people that I was at Woodstock but I really wasn't there; when they ask what it was like I just say "amazing," or "muddy."

I cleaned off a bookshelf today and this time Thus Spoke Zarathustra, a book I bought my freshman year in college, goes.

I enjoy the lingering smell of garlic on my hands after having chopped cloves for cooking.

Sometimes, when I cannot get back to sleep after awakening in the middle of the night, I find that the best thing to do is open a window and, if it is the right sort of night, take big breaths of fresh air, feel the breeze blow in past my face, and listen to the wind blow.

Last night I dreamed I lived with Michelle and Barak Obama —there was a big leak in the kitchen, but I didn’t tell them because I figured it was their responsibility.

My favorite radio station is Lyric FM from Limerick, Ireland.

I get plenty of sleep.

My blue parakeet’s name is Baby Toes Too.

I wanted to be a nun, and in retrospect, perhaps it was mostly because of the clothes.

I write the date on a new box of salt so I can see how long it lasts — the last one went from May 2008 to March 2012.

What I’ve owned longest: my Great-Aunt Tillie’s mother-of–pearl opera glasses — I took them to college with me.

In eighth grade I used to go up on the roof to dry my hair in the breeze.

I am a fearful driver, but I’ve flown a plane, ridden in a hot-air balloon, and walked on a coral reef in a diving bell.

I see eagles once in a while from my sun porch window.

I never thought I’d own a toy poodle.

My first doll’s name was Carolina Moon, the second was a celluloid Kewpie doll I called Sweet Potato.

Every fall I make great apple sauce: quarter and core a half-peck of McIntosh apples, slice an ounce or two of ginger, boil with a half-cup of water until soft, press through a food mill — pink ginger apple sauce to freeze and enjoy all winter.

Generally, I am perfectly happy.