A Ridiculously Long Post With a Prize Inside

Well, I have to say, you guys are awesome! The comments on my Sunday Meet and Greet post were entertaining, thought-provoking, and plentiful. I love my readers! Also, you guys asked some really great questions. But before I get to answering all of them (and adding all kinds of information you didn't ask for, which is kind of like a bonus), I have a bone to pick with you. All of you. Or maybe just the universe.

We need to revisit question number ten:

10. When you fold your hands, which thumb is closest to you, left or right?

See, this was a fifty-fifty kind of thing. Only two possible answers. One answer was the right thumb. The other answer was the wrong thumb. I had no idea how many of you would did this wrong. It's obvious that the right thumb goes on top. It's weird and uncomfortable and obnoxious otherwise.

What do you mean other people do things differently? What do you MEAN I phrased the question in regard to your personal thumbs? I don't care if you thought it was about YOUR thumbs, there is still a RIGHT way and a WRONG way to do this hand folding/clasping thing. What do you MEAN I am not the center of the universe? That's just crazy talk.

Okay, so to make sure I'm not erroneously placing myself in the center of the universe (which is where I BELONG, people!), I looked into this issue. According to some very strenuous scientific research (i.e. Google), it seems that either the population is split 50-50 on this or that the left thumb is more common (somewhere within 40-70% of the population). Which is also crazy talk. But according to the comments on this blog, 70% of you go with the left thumb (Linnea, I'm not counting your husband, because he didn't comment for himself and also 8 out of 11 is a more difficult number to turn into a percentage than 7 out of 10).

THIS IS ALL CRAZY TALK!!!

Ahem. Moving on. Since you all showed up in a big way to answer all my question and ask me some pretty awesome ones, too, I thought it was only fair that I have to answer all of them--the ones you asked me AND the ones I asked you. If you've been reading for a while, you know a lot of my answers to these questions, but for the sake of the newbies, I'll do it anyway. But I won't number them. Because I will not be constrained by your rules. Wait, what's that you say? They were my rules to begin with? FINE! I will not be constrained by MY rules. Better? Here goes:

I am single, but I would like to be married. Like yesterday. Married yesterday would be nice. And I don't mean single in the "this government form has three boxes: single, married, or separated and even thought I'm with someone, I'm not married to them yet, so I'm technically single" kind of way. I mean single in the "I may die alone surrounded by a lot of cats and not be found until my neighbors cannot abide the stench any longer" kind of way. Just so we're clear.

I do not have any biological or legally adopted children. But I have taken it upon myself to "adopt" any of my friends' children in so far as I take them for whole days at a time for fun with Auntie Elise, but give them back at bedtime. And I have a niece and a godson. But the above answer should be enough to explain why I am currently childless.

My favorite day of the week is probably Saturday. But that may be skewed by the current situation at my job and the fact that Saturday is my escape. So I'll come back to this one when my soul isn't being crushed by the oppressive weight of a tyrannical and incompetent workplace. I'm thinking it will still be Saturdays, though.

Something weird about me? I think the archives of this blog probably have enough evidence of me wackiness. But I HAVE TO answer the questions. So. Hmm... Here's one I don't think I've mentioned: I think I have a strange form of dyslexia in which I can identify and read letters no matter their orientation (upside-down or mirror image) or position (scrambled among other letters or jumping around the page). I also have to work pretty hard mentally to figure out my right from my left (I know I'm 24 years old and should be able to do this by now, but I swear it's a brain problem, not a lack of teaching or practice). Combine these two and that whole "make an L with your thumb and forefinger to help you remember which is left" thing absolutely.doesn't.help. This may be why I get lost on the way to parties all the time--the directions are both hard to read and hard to follow.

A small change I would make in the world would probably go something along the lines of "The only calories that count are the ones our bodies need to survive and the rest are just for our taste buds." Because it's lame that chocolate cake costs me calories from my daily budget, but celery does not.

I don't think I can effectively answer the favorite blogger question without offending someone. But if you look to your... right? Yes, on the right side portion of the screen is my blogroll, so those are the ones I'm reading all the time. And if you really pressured me, I would probably say Temerity Jane or The Pioneer Woman. But I don't want to diminish my love for all the other ones I REALLY DO LOVE. So forget that last sentence and assume I love them all equally.

I don't know if I can pick out just one favorite childhood memory. The ones that are coming to mind most are the bedtime routine memories, where I'm safe and loved and untroubled. Snuggling up with Papa to read books in my PJs. Laying in bed in the glow of the nightlight with Mom singing over me. Papa telling his Eric the Aardvark stories (remind me to tell you about these someday). All of us kids piled on one of the beds listening raptly as Papa told us about Eric and his animal buddies on a camping trip drinking hot plaid root beer (seriously, I need to tell this story eventually). Those are probably some of the best.

The earliest memory is a diaper change. Mom cloth diapered all of us kids (before they were the adorable, easy-to-use things they are now). When I was about 22 months old, I was Almost Potty Trained. My parents were moving us from the Midwest to Far North, so Mom gave away or got rid of most of the cloth diapering things, thinking she wouldn't really need them in Far North. She figured she'd use disposables for the road trip and the last weeks before I was completely done potty training. But I apparently didn't like the idea of moving and reverted back to Not Potty Trained At All until I was past three (I sure showed her!). One night, we ran out of disposables, so Mom found an old cloth diaper and put it on me with a large safety pin with a plastic yellow ducky for a cap. I remember the pin and laying on the floor near our fireplace. And I remember being VERY uncomfortable in the giant rubber pants. I'm glad those are gone now.

The tweeting question is kind of silly when posed to me, so I'll just say this: If you're interested in my incessant ramblings in 140 characters or less (a big change from this ridiculously long post), click on the little birdy on the top right.

The thing I value most is my family. I should probably give you some churchy answer about how I value Jesus Christ the most (and don't get me wrong, I LOVE that guy) or how my faith is the most important thing to me, but I really think I would not have the faith that I have or the love and reverence for Jesus that I have if it weren't for my family. Both in raising me in the truth and for holding me accountable to it now that I am grown. Plus, they're kind of awesome and they love me. And who doesn't want to be around people who love them?

I'm pretty sure we don't need to go over the whole thumb thing again. But in case you somehow missed it, I PUT MY RIGHT THUMB ON TOP. Just FYI.

Now, some of you have asked for more Satan's Cat stories. Here's a quick one: Our refrigerator has a ice and water dispenser on the outside, but the water has been incredibly slow lately--we think there might be a blockage in the line. A month or so ago, I tried just leaving my cup there (strategically weighed down with ice and propped to keep the water flowing) and coming back in a moment or two because it was taking so long. It worked! So I did it again. And completely overestimated how long I had before I needed to come back to the cup. So I flooded the whole front of the fridge. It was a mess to clean up and water kept running down the front in little droplets, which Satan's Cat tried to chase. A few days later, somehow thinking I had obtained new timing skills, I tried this method again and. Well... I think you know what happened. Apparently twice is enough to train this cat, because now if anyone so much as walks past the fridge, Satan's Cat perches right in front of the door and waits for the drips that will never come. It's gotten to the point where she looks like the Diet Minion Here to Judge Your Food Choices. You have to whack her with the fridge door to get her to move so that you can USE the fridge. My question is, why isn't twice enough to train her not to EAT MY FACE??? Twelve times has not been enough...

Someone else asked what my favorite smell is. That one has me stumped. I think I may have to just say "food in general." Here are a few, though. Freshly ground coffee beans. Baking bread. Baking cookies. Fresh laundry. That tiny spot behind a baby's ear. Apple-cinnamon-caramel-brown-sugar-nutmeg-and-allspice-Thanksgivingy goodness. Cucumber-melon bath products. The mixture of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice aftershave. Freshly mown grass. Newly churned soil after a heavy rain. Gosh, I could go on and on.

Mom: I want a car for Christmas. I know you cannot buy me a car. I know that would not be fair to the other kids, even if you could afford it. But I need a new car. And a new bed. But both are pretty expensive and kind of lame as gifts (because necessities make sad gifts). So maybe an iPad? I don't know. I'll start my list soon, I promise. Probably books, a few CDs, and a movie or two. Oh, and maybe a guest post from you. Because my readers seem to want it. And I think it would be AMAZING! So that, too.

And one of you clever people asked about my favorite holiday. Two days ago, I would have said Christmas--lots of food, the family together, people give me stuff, I get to make people smile by giving them stuff, ALL of the baby Jesus stuff, twinkle lights and decorations, ALL THAT IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD. But then. Yesterday, I invented a holiday. And it's definitely my new favorite. It's called All Quitter's Day (also known as My Day Of Jubilee). Every year on September 26th, anyone who hates their jobs and wants to quit but cannot work up the courage or feels obligated to stay for very silly and only half-valid reasons is allowed to QUIT THEIR JOBS GUILT-FREE. Like I did. Yesterday. And every year, on September 25th (henceforth known as All Quitter's Eve), we will all partake in gratuitous sleeping pill use to calm the crazies in our bellies and the racing in our chests and to work up the courage necessary for the next day. I think this will catch on, don't you?

Someone else asked about my dream job and whether that was against the rules. Yes and no. My dream job in a career/vocational sense is kind of off limits, because it directly relates to what I'm doing right now. But, in general terms, I would like a job that utilizes my talents and pushes me to grow without throwing me in the deep end sans support or guidance and then ridicules me when I fail. And I would like to work for a nice, smart boss who is in the office more that he is not and coworkers who are supportive and friendly without being all up in my personal business. And I would like to be able to leave work at work when I go home. But really? At the end of the day? My dream job is to be a wife and mother. I like working (theoretically, if I could get a good boss) and will do it if I need to after I have kids. But I would love to stay home a keep house and raise decent human beings and spend my day with the people I love and care about. That's the dream.

This same person also posed the ice cream question. I will eat almost any kind of ice cream (please no chunks of frozen fruit), but my hands-down favorite right now is Starbucks Java Chip Frappuccino ice cream. YUM!

Finally, one of you asked about how I express myself when I'm passionate about my topic. I will tell you: VERY LOUDLY and with lots.of.hand.gestures. I have a volume modulation problem most days. I have a voice that projects and some good lungs in my chest, so I have worked all of my life to use my indoor voice. It's actually rather embarrassing, because I often don't realize it and sometimes can't help it. And when I get passionate? All my hard work goes out the window. And also? I'm an incredibly passionate person. It's kind of exhausting, but I have this innate drive to debate and discover and discuss and interact. And I also usually have strong opinions. So my passion bubbles up a lot and so does my volume. The last time I got into a passionate conversation was either regarding how my boss treats me (badly, and I'm indignant) or the direction of our church's Youth Group (because I love those kids and want the best for them). I would rather it be about politics or religion or philosophy or something, because those are fun and also a little less "immediately personal."

So those are my answers. And a lot of extra information. And a prize of sorts. If you found it and it was the kind of thing that you would call a prize. I mean, I did. But maybe you all don't care. And I have no barometer of my sneakiness, so maybe it was obvious. Or maybe you have no idea what I'm talking about. But I'm leaving it as is and we'll figure it out later. And I would apologize for how long this post is, but all this information is CRUCIAL (heh...) and also it's not that much longer than my normal blathering, so... You know. Not sorry.