I was baptized into the Anglican church when I was ten. Yeah. Old enough to know better. I'm still not really sure why I did it; I don't think I really believed in God even back then. I was not the most thoughtful kid, and I think I figured that it was some kind of protracted metaphor or something. Or maybe I did believe in God back then. I remember praying when I was little, six or seven. I used to pray to Jesus that I would have a new toy when I got home from school. Yeah, I was a horrible little materialist too. I know I was thoroughly atheist by high school, I'm just not sure when and why I changed my mind.
I once perpetrated a horribly executed breakup. I was nineteen and I broke up with the one boyfriend I had before I met Blake. I didn't know why I wanted to break up with him - still not very thoughtful by then - I just knew it wasn't going to work and I wanted out. So I broke up with him, but of course since I didn't know why I wanted out, I couldn't tell him why, which must have been very unsatisfying. On top of that, I felt so guilty about making the guy miserable that I kind of told him we might get back together. We weren't going to get back together, and I must have realised that, but I was too much of a coward to make a clean break so I strung the poor kid along for a couple of months. Oh, did I mention we were still having sex? Yeah, that was all part of the "let him down easy" initiative. I don't think the guy knew it was really over until he realized I was going out with Blake. And by "going out with", I mean... well, you know what I mean.
But the ex consoled himself with a fresh new seventeen-year-old, so I don't feel too bad. I think they're still together!
I have IBS. (I love that domain name.) I don't really talk about it because it's not very interesting and it seems like TMI. Although apparently it affects between 15% and 30% of the population, and yet I don't know anyone else who admits to having it. So maybe it's time to start talking about it, because I know I feel like I'm the only person in the world with this stupid, embarrassing problem.
Hm, I just realized I'm exaggerating. I know two other people with various awkward bowel problems, and a third person has told me she has IBS. So maybe I'm not so alone. Still. Feels that way sometimes.
I have a thing for (tall) men with beards. Big, full beards, not long, Gandalf beards. Yeah, I know it's weird and runs contrary to the current (like, the last century) fashion but there it is. It might have started with an early love for Gerald Durrell Or maybe it's just a Santa Claus thing. The irony is Blake's never going to be able to grow a decent beard.
When I was eleven I started to learn flute, and then clarinet, and quit them both. I quit because I was not instantly successful and I didn't yet realize that most things worth doing are difficult and annoying at first. I was the classic over-praised child; I was so keen to maintain my reputation as "smart" and "capable" that the moment I wasn't good at something I quit. I also doubted my ability to succeed - I honestly thought that if something was hard at first I would never get better at it. I don't know how I so colossally failed to get the concept of a "learning curve" for so many years. Trying not to let that happen to my kids.
I have a million cousins. Well, not a million, but plenty, especially considering I only have one aunt and one uncle. My aunt Delphine, my mother's sister, had one daughter who had two kids, so that's one cousin and two cousins once removed.
My uncle Michael, on my father's side, was a little more fecund. He has four children (so five cousins total). Cousin Martin has four children, Bernard has three children, Amanda and Bridget have two each for a total of thirteen cousins once removed. Bernard's daughter Giorgina has a baby now, so I have a cousin twice removed as well. That makes nineteen cousins altogether.
I guess that isn't that many cousins - people from larger families have dozens of cousins. But to someone who grew up without any significant contact with extended family, it seems like a lot. It seems weird to have this connection with such a big group of people.
I don't hear much from my extended family, at least on my dad's side, probably because they already have eleven cousins and four aunts and uncles to deal with. I'm sure they're not in the market for yet another family member.
I lived in at least ten different houses before I went to university at seventeen. Why? No good reason. My parents (my dad, really) just felt the need to move a lot. I think my childhood would have been better if we hadn't have moved so much, but there were benefits, too: I have lived in three different countries, I have experienced what it is to be an outsider (again, and again, and again). I am extremely adept at finding people I like and making friends. I'm good at finding my way around new places and I can feel comfortable just about anywhere.
The moving madness didn't stop when I went to university, of course. I was in co-op, which meant another move every four months. Waterloo, Ottawa, Waterloo, Mississauga, Toronto, Waterloo. But since then (apart from a four month trip to Europe) I have lived within two kilometers of Yonge and Davisville, and here I intend to stay until the girls go off to their universities. It's nice to finally put down some roots.