So, I'm not particularly good at sports. Running, sure; but anything that requires some degree of co-ordination or skill? Two thumbs down on me and my abilities. In fact, one time I think a boy who had previously shown a fair amount of interest in me, completely lost that interest when he foolhardily had one of our dates end in a soccer match with several other couples. I think my awkwardness was just too too much. Fortunately, Mike submitted me to no such humiliating tests. I guess I passed all of his tests -- which mostly had to do with liking the animal section at county fairs, recognizing at least a little bit that his Ford Bronco was cool, and being a good kisser (oops hee hee -- just kidding). Oh, but that just reminded me of something. The other day, Mike and I were talking about one of us running a kissing booth -- I don't remember if it was going to be me or him in the booth. I also don't remember if one of us was threatening to be in it, or threatening to make the other person be in it, or where on earth or even why this kissing booth was going to be. Huh. We're funny.
Anyway, despite my inability to play co-ordination involved sports (is there a better name for those sports? What are "contact sports"? Does that just mean football?), as I was saying, despite my abilities in that area (or, my lacking abilities rather), I can actually play a fairly mean round of Ping-Pong. That's right -- Ping-Pong. I'm not half bad. Oh, and Badminton too (except I always thought Badminton was Badmitton). But that's it. Wouldn't you think that would somehow transfer to the tennis court (I'm so confused here -- do I capitalize tennis? I just capitalized Badminton, so maybe . . . but tennis seams so . . . general of a term . . .). Please though, let's stay on track. Why Ping-Pong when I don't know that I have ever once returned a tennis ball served to me? Quirky.
Ha! Did you hear that? Quirky. Maybe its a quirk. Remember how I used to be so sad because everyone was blogging about all their quirks, and I couldn't think of even one cool quirk? I tried, but the ones I came up with were lame, and Mike told me he'd watch me for quirks but then either lost interest or found none to report. But, I thought of THREE quirks today. How about that! Here. Have a read.
1. I have to fold the sheet over the edge of the blankets and then pull them all up close to my face when I sleep. It isn't preferring the sheet next to me so much. It more has something to do with greatly preferring a smooth rounded edge as opposed to trying to snuggle all these separate squared off blanket edges. I find myself waking up often through the night folding the sheet over better and then having to pull the blankets all up with a tug to still keep them up by my face despite all my folding over of everything.
2. I can't leave Costco with out buying a churro. It is strange to me that anyone actually can. I don't know how it is that my own Mike can go to Costco and return home churroless himself.
3. I doodle on anything I am writing on. You know, like when you are jotting down a phone number or some directions and then there are little stars and tiny vases of flowers popping up all around the directions as you continue chatting on the phone? Maybe everyone does that. Today, I was digging through a drawer looking for a pen when I found a loose scrap of paper with a phone number and next to it something that looked like balloons with very thick fat strings and then, oddly, a doodle of what could only be described as a cabbage wearing a party hat. Another paper with something I was supposed to remember written on it also contained some type of a massive flowery/star explosion hemmed in, thankfully, by heavy steel bars.
Anyway, discovering all these insignificant trifles about myself has been making me feel rather special -- which is, perhaps, odd since there is absolutely nothing one bit important or special about them, but that's the way it is with our society these days. It's all mixed up about what is and isn't special and we are all supposed to make everyone feel special for not very special things. But, I suppose that is way better than the olden days when, as far as I understand it, it was every teachers job to not only tell students they were absolutely not special, but that they would, "never amount to anything," -- followed, of course, by a good rap on the knuckles with a ruler just to drive the point home. Now that I think about it though, it seems like every great president or Albert Einsteiny sort got told just that by their teachers growing up, so maybe there is something to be said for it.
I don't know where that leaves us with this post, but I'm through now. Oh except for . . . no, except for nothing. I've got nothing else. Goodnight.