Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Tagged - 2

Here are Hallie's facts. Jan, Ro, and Hank will come later this week! And our mystery taggees will be announced on "Anything can happen day!" (See Roberta's post below for the rules.)

1. I have beautiful indoor plants. The secret: when one dies, throw it away and buy a new one.
2. I won the horseback riding trophy when I was 12 at summer camp.
3. My secret ambition has always been to be a torch singer...and have cleavage.
4. I've read all the Oz books, the Nancy Drew books, and the Harry Potter books.
5. I'm a Trekkie. 6. I met Marilyn Monroe.
7. I hate writing. I LOVE having written.


  1. ...a torch singer? Very cool. Did you watch a lot of Susan Hayward movies when you were a kid?

  2. Hallie, I love how you tagged your post "cleavage"!! I forgot to mention that I wanted to be a singer too--more like Bonnie Raitt. Though my dad always wanted one of us to sing like Edith Piaf.

    Apologies to all of you who left comments yesterday--they've disappeared and we're so sorry!

  3. Hallie, you met MM?? Tell more, please!

    I have wished to be a cleavaged torch singer, too, when I wasn't wanting to be Fred Astaire.

    I'm so sorry yesterday's comments disappeared. Those other two lists were great. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, maybe they'll repeat them here?

    I hate to think Blogger is eating comments! ::Shudder::

  4. I'm loving these lists -- from Tonka's agility training (I'm still trying to get an image on slow agility training) to recalicitrant button-sewing to erstwhile torch singing and Marilyn Monroe. Who knew? And We Should Know More.

    For a minute I thought I had the whole comments page still up on a computer upstairs, but newp, in some tidy-computer fit, I closed it yesterday and so don't have the page with the collective comments.

    I can recap mine (I think?) from memory.
    1) I have lain in a closed coffin more than once. There was a reason for this.
    2) This past year I planted the rose garden I have waited 25 years for ... a limited success. But there's always Garret Juice and next year!
    3)[summarizing two posts] I am not afraid of public speaking, heights, bats, rats, snakes, flying, and I'm not at all afraid of the dead -- but I hate the feel of wet bread on my skin. As in, someone got sloppy dumping their plate in the sink, and I'm washing dishes and a big old wet crust of bread attaches to my arm like one of those badass antibodies in The Fantastic Voyage. Bluh. I do, however, paradoxically love bread pudding. Tiramisu only if the ladyfingers have been kissed rather than drowned in the liquor. Croutons in soup MUST be eaten before they bloat. Wet bread on French Onion soup? ::shivers::
    Never would I dunk cookies in milk. All those wet cookie boogers waiting at the bottom to slide down the glass and hit me on the lip. GAAAH.
    4) I have trouble with construction-type spatial-relations tasks -- like sewing (it took me 6 hours to make a 4-seams-and-a-hem sundress) or those exercises where you look at a diagram with fold lines on it and have to determine what shape it would make in 3-D once folded up. I am TERRIBLE at this. However, when an air traffic controller handling 15 planes in addition to my own calls the positions of each plane as (s)he clears them in or out of airspace, I have no trouble visualizing where each of them is and how their position relative to me changes as they climb, descend, and turn -- or as I do. I can plot moving aircraft in space, but you would NOT want me for your architect.
    5)I typically work better with men than with women, but generally sync with women better in terms of worldview.
    6)[I can't remember #6! so I'll put a new one] When I think of something I've done that's embarrassing to me, I'll reflexively start humming. I've done this since I was a little girl. I never hum otherwise. If you ever hear me humming, it's a cinch I'm re-playing some particularly doofus thing I've done.
    7) I read some novels over and over again because I get lonely for the characters. Not-- gee, I really like that book and want to read it again -- but, "I miss so-and-so." I've read Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series (20 volumes) eight times for this reason. In the case of O'Brian, I also miss the ships with a sensation something like homesickness.

  5. I was about--oh, 13.
    I was walking slinkily up our driveway, thinking I was all alone.
    I was "practicing" singing Stormy Weather. With lots of moves.
    After a few minutes my sneaky sister couldn't hold back her laughter and she came out from behind the porch. Guffawing. As only a ten year old can.

    I got her later.

    As for the disappeared comments, you're supposed to ask cui bono, right? And so I think it was Susannah whodunnit, trying to avoid the "wet bread" conversation.

  6. Wet bread--ick! Love your comment, Susannah - you must be a writer. I want to know about lying in coffins.

    Ah, how Marilyn. My parents, Hollywood screenwriters Henry and Phoebe Ephron, had written a movie THERE'S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS (1954)and my father took me on the sound stage at 20th Century Fox to watch them film the sexy, sultry number, HEAT WAVE, that MM does solo. She came out after wearing pedal pushers, wedgies (shoes), and a babushka on her head, and she was very sweet when my father introduced me to her. I also met Ethel Merman, Fred Astaire, Mitzi Gaynor, Groucho Marx... and Ray Bolger once sang "Once in Love with Amy" to me and I didn't have the heart to tell him that Amy was my younger sister.

  7. Hallie, when it comes to good writing--you certainly can can-can.

    I'll be humming it all day.

  8. For three years I was a body in a coffin for a March of Dimes Haunted House. All proceeds to charity. I guess I was the only volunteer who could stand the small space and the whole idea of being shut up in The Box. (It had air holes drilled in the back side.) Dark room, mournful organ music, lilies -- you know the drill. There was this Lurch sort of character -- a HUGE guy -- who would pull open the top half of the lid when folks walked through, and when they'd peer down, I'd sort of spring sitting up (Jack-in-the-box action wearing a pearl-encrusted shroud) and SCREAM!!!!


    Once I boing!ed up and looked straight into the face of an ex-boyfriend, who twitched a little, stood his ground, and then squeaked: 'You got your hair cut!'


  9. Yikes! You really DON'T have any other phobia than the wet bread.

    But what a great story about the boyfriend!

  10. Oh, Susanna, that sooo belongs in a movie.

    Hallie, when Groucho Marx said hello did a little bird come down?

    Okay, back to work for me. I'm still on blog hiatus.