1. In eighth grade I was convinced I wanted to be an archaeologist when I grew up. I remember writing a report on the profession for Social Studies, and my teacher kept me after class to discuss it further because she was so intrigued. I had been learning about the Incas and Mayans and wanted so badly to be able to travel to Central and South America to uncover artifacts from these ancient civilizations, imagine what life had been like for them, and write stories about them.
2. My sister Becky and I shared a room together when we lived in Houghton (the first time). I was 10-ish and she was four. We shared a big antique bed and every night Becky would ask me to tell her a story. I would make up crazy stories with characters she could recognize (like Strawberry Shortcake). As she started to drift off, she’d say, “I love you Embo.” And I’d reply “Ditto."
3. My last year of college, I moved back in with my parents in Houghton to save money. I had lived alone in an apartment the year before, but now I was planning a wedding. Becky and I shared rooms again as a college and high school student. One morning, the light flicked on in our room and Dad was standing there asking us “Who broke the cheese cutter?” We were still half asleep and mumbled, “Whaaa? We have no idea. Why did you wake us up for this?” Dad woke up Phil across the hall and repeated his line of questioning. Same muffled, incoherent response. I will never look at cheese cutters the same way again.
4. I TiVo the Young and the Restless every day. It is the soap opera my mom has watched as long as I can remember. She, my sister-in-law Nicole, and I actually have conversations about the various storylines at family functions. How embarrassing!
5. I’ve been cooking a lot with garlic this week while Drew’s out of town. While Drew doesn’t dislike garlic, he does not share my thought that garlic goes in just about anything. I figured he’s not eating my meals this week—and won’t be grossed out by my general garlic aroma—so I can go nuts. After working with garlic, I usually wash my hands with a spoon to help remove the garlic smell. I purposely didn’t last night, and I can still smell the garlic on my fingertips…yum!
6. I hate coconut. Many of you already know this about me. It isn’t the flavor of coconut; it’s a texture thing. Growing up, my brothers were aware of my hatred of coconut and (of course) set out to use it against me. For our birthdays, Mom let the four of us pick what meal we wanted as well as what type of cake. Blaise and Phil would always choose things like Lazy-Dazy Oatmeal Cake and Coconut Cream Pie (I guess this was more for holidays than birthdays, but still…) so that I would be dessert-less at these celebrations. This little annoyance still occurs to this day.
-EmP.S. Happy Anniversary, blog-o-mine! Thinking Out Loud turns four today.
