Ordinarily I don’t double post because it makes me feel like a lack-life wanker, but since Bam asked me to do this, I must cooperate.
So here we go.
What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?
First, I would like to say this is one fucked up invasive question. Duh, my fridge has food in it, I have kids to feed. Four kinds of juice, two kinds of milk, three kinds of cheese, two bottles of wine, iced tea, a lone Coke, carrots, salad, apples, kiwi, yoghurt, a roast chicken, steamed rice, sushi, butter, flavored butter (one with chipotle, one with Italian herbs), two kinds of jelly, sliced ham, strawberries, and all kinds of condiments. I have nothing on my bedroom floor except a cat. This is subject to change. My nightstand has… my Ipod, a bunch of DVDs, and about a hundred books. No joke, they’re piled up three feet high in a single stack. I use the wall to balance it. Not toppling this pile when I am hunting a book is a professional-level skill. My trash? Are you kidding me? Nothing. The maid took it out earlier.
Look at your feet. Describe what you see there.
Bare, short, and sun-reddened. These are a peasant’s feet. I don’t wear shoes unless I’m forced to.
When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell does she associate with it? Sauerkraut? Oatmeal cookies? Paint? Why is that smell so resonant for you?
Pickles. Every summer my mom would bring in an assload of cucumbers from the garden and we’d spent forever and a day canning those mofos. I can’t get sweet pickles here and I miss them.
You are doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?
Nope. Not happening. My maid comes three days a week and she would be way pissed if I started messing around with her cleaning supplies. The woman does a sterling job and I am not about to rile her by infringing on her territory. However, I do throw out junk mail and food containers. I almost never part with books — they have to be electrician-sweaty-ass-bad for me to donate them or give them away.
It’s Saturday at noon. What are you doing? If you’re eating breakfast, what exactly do you eat? If you’re stretching out in your backyard to sun, what kind of blanket or towel do you lie on?
I’ve been woken up by a kid or a cat. It’s probably a cat. Nine times out of ten, I will have a mixed Siamese kitten biting my nose and crying piteously because he’s lonely. His name is Don Quixote (Don to his friends) and he is way needy. He wakes me three times a night to pet him, wailing his heart out because he needs my attention RIGHT THEN. He’s worse than a baby because he can jump in bed with me and nip me. Depending on how tired I am, I either get up to make a big ole country breakfast (pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs) by 10 or I tell the kids to eat cereal and leave me alone for another hour or two. No sun for me, I’m scared of the skin cancer.
What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?
When I was eight, my mom sent me to a neighbor lady with some cookies. I delivered them and then bent down to pet her dog. Big English sheepdog went postal on me and chewed half my face off. The neighbor lady then got a wet dishtowel and SENT ME HOME. I showed up at my front door bleeding all over. My dad was asleep (he worked midnights) and my mom was out with my sister. I wake my dad and he almost shit his pants. He rushed me to the hospital, where it took 32 stitches to sew my face back together. I remember being strapped to the operating table watching them sew my face back together. Needle in and out of skin… they strapped me down because they couldn’t anesthetize my face, as it was close to my brain and I was small (or something). So I felt it every time they sewed my face back together. (Yes, I have a fear of needles.)
The worst part of all that? I wound up looking like Bride of Frankenstein with a bunch of black stitches starting at the corner of my eye running down to my upper lip. And the next day, it was square-dancing in gym class. I begged my mom not to make me go but she said I was fine and sent me off to school. See, you had to have a boy partner you for that and the fookin’ boys got to pick. Nobody picked me and I had to dance with the gym teacher, Mr. Rawlings. *sniffs* Everyone comfort me now. As to why it’s lasting… well, duh!
You are getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?
Hm. It might be with my whole family, the whole extended family or just my husband. And we’re probably going out to dinner, a party, or to the movies. If it’s one of the first two, I wear my Liz Claiborne slacks, a sparkly top that shows some boobage, and my favorite perfume, CK Escape. Not big on makeup because I have good skin. For the movies I wear old jeans and one of Andres’s shirts cos it’s dark, who’s gonna see me? (I could run with the JR Ward brand-dropping thing: Then we get in our Infiniti and we roll to Fogon do Brasil and order some Bailey’s Irish Creme while checking the time on our matching Piaget watches and wait for our friends to roll up in their Mini…)
There, I’m done. You guys feel closer to me now? Group hug? Anyone?