If you scroll down two posts you’ll see I just did a Seven Things meme two weeks ago. But this one comes from Stella, my brilliant and witty writing colleague at The View from Here. Also, it’s practically become second nature for me to view any and all attributes in groups of seven.
1. In the previous post I mentioned my long term fear of police. The police and I fail to communicate. Doctors and I usually get along very well. We sympathize with each other; recognize that any one person’s complaint is probably no big deal compared to another’s; discuss trends in various treatments that have more to do with the pharmaceutical business than specific illnesses.
2. My husband and I have two occicats, Archie, the darker one, and Oscar who’s silver. They are the naughtiest cats I’ve ever heard of. They can open dresser drawers, snag clothing and toss socks at each other all day. They’ll get their paws on a bra and play tug of war. And they can TP our apartment in ten minutes, but prefer paper towels. On the plus side, they come when we call them and can even play fetch. To say nothing of their wild beauty.
3. I get the worst migraine headaches ever afflicted on anyone throughout all time. And, I get them often. Typically, during the 24-hour peak, I feel as if half my head has been blown off. The upside of this (I try harder than you’d guess to be optimistic) is that for all that pain, I can experience commensurate pleasure. My good friends the doctors are beginning to see this in MRIs. And people with a history of migraines end up with a brain whose sensory and pleasure/pain lobes show extra nerve endings.
4. I don’t drink alcohol—ever—because one sip induces instant half-your-head-blown-off pain. But I can be as much fun at parties as any brandy snifter.
5. I’ve never eaten a McDonald’s hamburger or a Burger King. I’ve never eaten anything
at Wendy’s or Taco Bell.
6. I’m temperamental. In my previous Seven Things I offered examples of how opinionated I am, but I think temperamental is more accurate. When my son (who was wildly precocious) asked me when he was seven what the word meant, I defined it and my son said, “Oh, like you.”
7. My in-laws who leave the country at Christmas are apparently saying Fie! to economic reality and taking us to Rome for Christmas. The trip will be my Seventh outside the USA.
Phew, Seven (and every other number) is time; sometimes it's not enough; sometimes too much. These Seven were a lot. Finally, I'm tagging:
wornoutwoman
(The author of FINDING KLYLIE)
Utah Savage
