Playing Tag

I was tagged with this Random Meme from Dona Sarkar-Mishra over at Dona!=Real Work. She's got a novel coming out soon--How to Salsa in a Sari--which I'm very much looking forward to reading!! Check out her blog at http://donasarkar.blogspot.com/.

Random Meme Rules:
1. Link to the person’s blog who tagged you.
2. Post these rules on your blog.
3. Don't drink anything over the keyboard while reading this meme on other pages.
4. List seven random and/or weird facts about yourself.
5. Tag seven random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
6. Stretch.
7. Let each person know that they have been tagged by posting a comment on their blog.

Seven random Marilyn-isms:
1. I used to be a member of this dance group in college. We spent a summer touring Europe and performing a bunch of American style dances at folk festivals (like the Jitterbug, the Charleston, Appalachian mountain clogging, some mildly dangerous Hawaiian dances with sticks, etc.). I met lots of cute international guys, and I still have my clogs.
2. I hate celery.
3. My parents wanted me to become a pharmacist when I grew up. Don't ask.
4. Although I happily married a man with a different name, I couldn't seem to get away from guys called "Steve" in high school and college. I dated far too many of them.
5. I will eat almost anything if it comes drenched in a chocolate sauce. Bugs and celery are two of my primary exceptions.
6. Admittedly, I go overboard on the use of this product, but I'm really fond of hand sanitizer.
7. When it comes to issues of safety, I generally follow rules--not so much with chain letters, recipe exchanges or even random memes. As a big believer in free choice, I invite anyone who visits here to play the next round of this game, if you so choose. Please consider yourself "tagged," if you want to do it...or not, if you don't :-).

P.S. Hope everyone had a fun Thanksgiving!

Party Girl Envy

I suspect I'm just not much of a Party Girl, no matter how I try to overcome or camouflage it. This lack of enthusiasm for wild celebrations feels like a kind of personality defect or, at least, my very extraverted son would probably think so if he could put his confusion into words. As it is, he looks at me amidst the chaos of some social gathering, his head tilted slightly to the left, his expression utterly perplexed, and he says things like, "Mommy, aren't you having fun?"

No. Fun would not be the right word.

I say this having (almost) recovered from an enormous (for me) birthday party in which 17 (mostly well-behaved) children ran around a gymnastics center as if they were zoo animals released into the Serengeti. Five days later, the memory of this event still lingers, much like the smears of bright orange and red cupcake frosting I keep finding on my son's clothing.

It's not that I'm antisocial. I really love talking to people. Individually. Or in very small groups. Frequently with coffee standing by. This is nice. This is fun. This is the kind of "party" I enjoy and appreciate.

But, somehow, I don't think my son will want to go to Starbucks with me and a couple of my good friends for his next birthday party. Pity...

Tastes Change

Under the unofficial heading of How Small Things Can Sometimes Symbolize Big Things, I was reflecting on my pizza toppings this afternoon.

I've always loved a multicolored veggie pizza. Still do. Mushrooms, black olives, green (and/or red) peppers, a little onion, tomato chunks, the occasional dash of spinach...it's all good. So, I ordered one of those for lunch today at my favorite local coffee/sandwich shop, and it was terrific. Really. Only problem? It wasn't what I had a taste for.

Mentally, I'd been so sure of myself going into this lunch. So certain of my dining preferences. I'd seen someone else order this very same entree just a few days ago, and it'd been on my mind ever since as "the next thing I'd get." But I must not have been listening to my little internal voice today because I dismissed the impulse telling me to order the chicken panini or, maybe, the mango salad instead. And, so, I went with an old standby that wasn't a bad choice, it just wasn't the right one...

Can't help but think I've done something similar far more often than I should've lately.