Friday, January 6, 2012

Random Thorts

So, I woke up Thursday night (well, Friday morning, actually) and couldn’t really get back to sleep (I think some dozing occurred on and off) what with the hot flashes and the Duncan-wanting-attention and the mouth-like-the-Gobi-Desert (thank you, sinuses, for making me a mouth-breather). So I was thinking about this and that, the way one does, and began thinking about the things I like/do now that I’ve enjoyed/done pretty much all my life. And as it stands now, think I will probably continue to enjoy/do right up until the end.

Number 1 on the list would have to be enjoying that tart, artificial, orange taste that one finds in baby aspirin. I’ve always loved that flavor. When I was little, my brother and I had to take these daily vitamins…they were liquid and came in little brown glass bottle with glass eyedroppers. And every day we had to have an eye-dropper full. I loved those things! (In fact, typing this up and thinking about them is making my salivary glands go into overdrive.) I used to sneak extra dropperfuls whenever I could. My mom knew that I was sneaking extra because she would buy a bottle for me and a bottle for my brother (who I think hated them but will undoubtedly remember their name) and my bottle would empty out in half the time it took his to empty. I also used to sneak baby aspirin, something my mother didn’t know and which rather horrified her when I told her (when I was in my 30’s). I was very careful, though. I knew aspirin was dangerous so I only ever stole the number of tablets that the label assured me was safe. I remember staring at the label and wishing I were old enough to take 4 tablets instead of just 2. I am thrilled now to take my daily baby aspirin!

Number 2? Like my father, I’ve always loved having my hair messed with. Some gentle hair-combing and I am in heaven. When I was little, my Dad would come home from work and sit down with the paper or a book (I remember this most clearly in the second house I lived in) and I would climb up behind him and sit on the back of the sofa with my legs over his shoulders and I would play with his hair. Now, we’re talking a professional 40-ish year old man in the very early ‘60’s. His hair was probably half an inch long. But I would comb it and brush it (I used to love putting his hair brush (which I loved because it was clear, see-through plastic), bristles down, on the top of his head, twirling it and pulling it straight up…I called it making birds’ nests) and no doubt chatter his ears off. I always looked forward to having my own “beauty parlor” sessions when I had a kid. Alas, Rachel had no interest in playing any such games. Guess she didn’t inherit the “please fool with my hair” gene.

For Number 3…for as long as I can remember I’ve used an alphabet game to put myself to sleep at night (yes, I tried it last night…no, it doesn’t always work). I go through the alphabet as follows:

A, my name is Annabelle (or Amelia or Avery or whatever name pops into my mind)
My husband’s name is Adam
We live in Annapolis
And we sell antiques.

B, my name is Bethany
My husband’s name is Bert
We live in Baltimore
And we sell books.

And so on, until:

Z, my name is Zelda
My husband’s name is Zeus
We live in Zanesville
And we sell zebras.

If it’s an exceptionally tough night (like Thursday night), it’ll go like this:

A, my name is Amber
My husband’s name is Alexis
We live in Anaheim
My favorite food is avocado
My favorite color is amethyst
My favorite animal is an anaconda
My favorite flower is the anemone
And we sell ammonia!

I’ve had a couple of nervous habits (biting my nails and twiddling my hair) probably since I’ve had teeth and hair. I can’t say I enjoy them, but I bet I’ll still be twiddling what remains of my hair when I’m drooling in a nursing home.

And I twiddle my feet. When I'm not feeling well, I'll lie down on my side and rub my feet, round and round, against each other. It's soothing. Mr. Pointy Sticks knows that when I'm doing that, I'm really not feeling well.

There's probably more...but I think it's time for bed.


O said...

Zyma-drops it was. Fishy little fellows; probably why I like anchovies now.

MaureenL said...

What about knitting?
You'll be knitting up to your last breath! 8-)

ml said...

Swell post. Mr. Proust never had a baby aspirin, but if he had had, you could have kept your madeleine, I'm sure...