The Factoid List
August 23rd, 2007
1. The night my husband and I met, he lent me Christopher Alexander’s A Pattern Language and Dead Can Dance’s Aion.
2. He also made me promise to go get Bantock’s Griffin and Sabine, instead of just lending it to me, which is why we now own two copies.
3. All my parental judgement is completely suspended when my three year old says “Gebause” instead of “because” gebause it is SO freaking cute, and I am not normally susceptible to cute.
4. Backpacking and building trails with the Student Conservation Association in New Hampshire’s White Mountains between my sophomore and junior years of high school the thing I missed most was a dictionary.
5. I nonetheless resented the moniker ‘Walking Dictionary’ given somewhat affectionately by friends in high school.
6. Though they didn’t send a dictionary, my parents did send a Beatles songbook, which was nice for campfires in the evening.
7. Under our roof right now: a piano, a ‘cello, four violins of different sizes, two violas, three electronic keyboards, and I couldn’t tell you how many drums.
8. While living in Prague we ate at McDonald’s, KFC, Pizza Hut, Dunkin’ Donuts, Planet Hollywood and TGI Friday’s more times than I am really comfortable admitting.
9. While living in Portland I have eaten at none of the above.
10. I find jigsaw puzzles soothing.
11. The best tomato soup I ever tasted came out of a thermos while sailing in my uncle’s sunfish in the Cochiti Lake, perfect for its warming contrast with being chilled and wet and wind-whipped, and to this day I cannot taste tomato soup without wishing I could be in a little boat on water between high canyon walls.
12. At 12, I thought Piers Anthony, Robert Asprin and Douglas Adams were this triumvirate pinnacle of wit and great writing.
13. I listen to between seven and ten hours of podcasts a week, most, but not all, of them coming from NPR.
14. Like almost every American woman I know, I struggle with body image, but try never to ask my husband if something makes me look fat.
15. My first son was born in a Czech hospital, my second in an American hospital, my third son in a midwife-run birth center, my fourth at home, in a tub with a midwife attending.
16. I write three pages, longhand, every morning, and struggle with contempt for the omphaloskeptic endeavour of spending all sorts of time and energy, not to mention paper and ink, on just articulating what I am thinking, but it is cheaper than therapy.
17. Eleven and a half years of marriage, ten years of parenting, nine mailing addresses, eight different Apple computers, seven schools we’ve sent kids to, six jobs, five cities, four children, three states, two countries, one email address…
18. I married my first husband at nineteen and at twenty said “I cannot live and thrive in this marriage” even though I couldn’t make anyone around me understand — my survival instinct was so strong that it carried me through standing up for myself and the ensuing tumult and mess.
19. That, fourteen years later, I am intact, happy a lot of the time and in a second marriage that works seems to be the vindication I need, and it is wonderful knowing that, with a full continent between us the first husband is happily living a life with a wife I think I’d really like and three kids of his own.
20. I still revisit the story of what happened and why periodically to try and make sense of it myself because it is part of the story of who I am, and am grateful that time has reduced all guilt and blame.
21. During this hardest part of my life, it was writing that saved me.
22. Or maybe listening to bluegrass, in particular, New Grass Revival’s “When the Storm is Over.”
23. My first best friend was Mandy Murphy in early elementary school, and in third and fourth grades it was Ryl Ashley, who had the same birthday as me and was a year older.
24. Ryl played violin in the school orchestra, and I think that was why I decided to, too.
25. My lifeline through high school, though, was a correspondence friendship with Meg York, who had been my counselor at music camp. She wrote long, funny letters on being the only girl in her rural Los Lunas high school in love with Robert Smith, reading science fiction, and just being different.
26. My favorite ever television show is Freaks and Geeks.
27. I have the best mother-in-law of anyone I know, except possibly my husband.
28. We almost named our oldest son Damiel, after one of the angels in Wim Wender’s Wings of Desire.
29. I was so sure he was going to be a girl because I spent the last two months of my pregnancy reading Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex.
30. I can completely lose track of time while building with legos.
31. In a bookstore, after I glance through new releases in fiction and magazines, I will spend any time I have left before trading turns with my husband watching kids in the children’s section in the architecture and neighborhood design section.
32. My husband and I have a standing monthly date to go play Werewolf, where I think we were both surprised to discover I actually can lie and bluff with the best of them.
33. My greatest challenge cooking is being married to a vegan and being the parent of a child who mostly likes to eat variants of bread and cheese: grilled cheese, quesadillas, pizza…
34. I could live without meat, have lived without meat, but am not a vegetarian.
35. I have worked in a video store, a bakery, a pit orchestra, and an architectural planning office. I learned quickly that the lower the pay, the harder and more unpleasant the work, which makes me skeptical of capitalism.
36. Quitting smoking was hard enough that when I smell cigarette smoke I have pangs of distaste, a longing for the pleasure I remember, and sympathy for the smoker who, no doubt, faces some pressure to quit.
37. I went on two dates with a tow truck driver before I met my husband, and we had nothing in common at all.
38. I was one of three valedictorians at my high school, all with perfect gpa’s, and we pretty much insisted on being treated equally and dividing our valedicory address into three parts, rather than having the school try and rank us by weighing the different classes we had taken or whatever.
39. That was pretty much the pinnacle of my academic achievement.
40. Our cat has only one eye. Her other eye was punctured while we lived in Austin, the costly animal eye doctor we took her to speculated either by a thorn or barbed wire or a b.b., and she hid from us after it happened long enough we weren’t able to save the eye, though we could have spent a lot of money on a glass eye which I don’t think would offer her much comfort.
41. My best birthday present ever was classes in drawing and oil painting when our second son was just a baby. It wasn’t so much about artistic ambition as just being able to go and focus on a single thing for a few hours when life around the house was about always trying to do eight things at once.
42. The stupidest fight my husband and I ever got in was about his not wanting me to wear my black leather biker jacket when I met his parents.
43. Our best fight ever was a food fight.
44. My favorite flower is the daffodil.
45. My favorite color is turquoise.
46. I am by nature a sore loser and have worked REALLY hard on graciousness since having kids. It helps that their father/my husband loves all sorts of games and is not a sore loser, ever.
47. I did my undergraduate honors thesis on metaphor and have dreamed of starting a metaphor company: you send me something you want to describe and I’ll send you a metaphor for it, or your money back. Guaranteed.
48. Little things that make life worth living: kombucha, blueberries, avocado, roasted bell peppers, Israeli couscous, baby spinach, yellow curry, Portland coffee.
49. My perfect date: roller skating, coffee, Powell’s City of Books.
50. I cannot fall asleep without reading.





August 25th, 2007 at 11:53 am
Brilliant! I’m right there with you on kombucha, blueberries (and best of all blueberry kombucha), turquoise, Legos-trancing and Douglas Adams (and many other things as well–the recovering-from-the-disastrous-first-marriage guilt and shame, e.g.). “Is omphaloskepsis wise?” I wrote once rhetorically in a long and silly poem (cf. metaphor company). Probably not; but like you say, it’s only $9.95 a month for hosting, as opposed to hundreds of dollars for talk therapy, so there!
) I would say more but I hear the Brujo in the back yard mowing and feel (surprise) guilty…I think I was born guilty…but what a wonderful list! Much more informative than, well, nothing…and it brings you into clearer focus, when by necessity we often write about the ones around us (because we can *see* **them**!). PS: I stayed up all night last night finishing HP7! Lord, I haven’t done that in…way too long. Crept into bed at 6 am as the sun was rising. “Where have you BEEN?” grumbled the B. and then fell back asleep.
August 25th, 2007 at 11:56 am
Blargh, I can’t edit my comment!
( The editrix never sleeps…there should have been an opening parens between “Douglas Adams” and “and”….! Zut alors! Quelle horreur!
August 25th, 2007 at 12:23 pm
So, I edited it, but that rendered the second comment — less sensible? But I’ve left comments on your site and then blushed re-reading thinking I should have proof-read one more time. But never wanted to do the second comment… Anyway, your list was first and clearly the inspiration, and your slowed posting left me poking around your site for my fix…
…and I ended up printing out a bunch of poems from the auction of the mind part, because I want to read and re-read them slowly. And how strange then it is, holding the stack of papers in my hand like concrete evidence you exist. And I ought to find perhaps another way to render you thanks, but it felt so good to find inside myself I was responding to the poems, after what feels like years of buying poetry books and responding with this intellectual appreciation “Yes, yes, nice meter, lovely imagery, mmm-hmm” to find myself greedy for the poems, internalizing them somehow, remembering what it feels like to write with the tongue forming the words synchronously with the pen.
And it leads me back to how hard blogging can be when I feel locked into a particular tone, a particular voice. Reminds me that the most personal writing is not about our medical histories or our sex lives, the things that would hurt other people to read, but the stuff that tells you what it feels like to be me. The world has so many commentators on stuff, and my voice feels lost in the throngs there, but it is also really sort of frightening to experiment again with writing from a point of the girl who loved words for themselves as much as for the ideas that they allowed her to express. It’s happening a little in the daily longhand pages, but that’s rather reminiscent of practicing walking in unaccustomed high heels in one’s own bedroom before risking stumbling about in public.
So, were you satisfied with HP7?
August 27th, 2007 at 9:00 pm
Speaking of walking in high heels in the bedroom (and I *still* can’t walk in the dang things)…tonight I got to go first (lucky me) at our first poetry workshop with Walt. Weird, weird. And I feel so locked into “the poem I already know how to write and have been pulling off successfully and boringly for a decade or more.” And, I hate workshops. All I can really say is, I want to make up a t-shirt (me and my t-shirts) that says on the front: I’D RATHER BE IN POTIONS and on the back AND BTW I TRUSTED SNAPE WHEN YOU DIDN’T! Hah. I was satisfied I suppose but aggrieved over various matters, and mostly over the fact that now there are no more Harry Potters, and instead I must go read from the “composition” “reader” from which I am to teach in nine hours. Will this EVER let up, if I don’t blog soon I will perish….I am incredibly blushy and pleased and embarrassed that you peeked at my poems and don’t know what to say so I will just stop tripping around on my mom’s brown spectator pumps and end this comment that doesn’t really comment on anything–for now! Bons baisers, the Un xx
November 15th, 2007 at 10:38 pm
[...] to post. And I will try and come up with seven facts about myself that aren’t on my list of 50 factoids and aren’t that I think I am the only person as insecure as I am, nor that I was surprised to [...]
January 7th, 2008 at 10:35 pm
So wait a second–are you saying that Douglas Adams is NOT part of the pinnacle of wit and great writing?!?
Do I look fat in this?
January 8th, 2008 at 6:04 pm
You, darling, are a one-woman triumvirate pinnacle of wit and great writing. And you couldn’t look fat in that without stuffing a couple of pillows in there.
December 19th, 2008 at 11:25 am
On 47: Aren’t you destroying any potential business by having your blog? I can see that for much of what I’d want a metaphor, it’s in your blog entries.
I don’t ask the fat question, but rather, “Can you see my muffin-top?”
December 19th, 2008 at 11:26 am
And just in case, I should make clear that I am trying to pay you a compliment on 47.
May 26th, 2009 at 7:22 pm
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