Before I get to the meme, though, there are a few things of note on the blogosphere this morning:
- An agent told me I'm not a great writer! How do I survive? posted by Moonrat over at Editiorial Ass.
- Characters are People, Too by Allison Brennan at Murder She Writes
- Past Perfection by PaperbackWriter
And on to the meme... So here's the deal. I have to write seven facts about myself. I'm guessing it's seven things that aren't generally known, or that I haven't already meme'd about.
1) I pick up other people's accents. If I'm around anyone with an accent for more than a few minutes, I start talking with their accent. It's totally unconscious and I have to force myself to not do it (if I catch myself, which I rarely do). I think it's genetic. My father had the same problem, and once got accused of making fun of someone with an accent (something he would never do) because he started talking like them halfway through the conversation. I think I accidentally offended some Mennonites during my garage sale because of this, but I swear I couldn't help it. Heaven help me if I get a NY agent with a Bronx accent - it could get sticky.
2) I have a complete set of 1957 encyclopedias - purchased by my parents when my mother was pregnant with my oldest brother. Inside are all the four leaf clovers we found as children, along with various other sundry items kept inside their pages as memories. They're the same encyclopedias I had to use as reference material when I was in high school, even though according to them, man never landed on the moon.
3) I have a penchant for naming animals. I called the dog that lived next my office in Michigan Fidget. The cat that lives behind this house is now called Simone (or Simon if I find out she's a he). At our last house our feeder attracted a house finch that was orange (don't ask), and I named him Syracuse. Heck, the last time we were at PetsMart they had a cat up for adoption whose name tag read 'Princess'. I told the cashier they needed to change her name to Pun'kin. She didn't look like a princess. She looked like a Pun'kin because the orange in her fur was the exact color of pumpkin pie filling.
4) When I was in college, I spent hours wandering through the Seventh Street Park Cemetary and often sat on the steps of the Kaufman mausoleum to write letters and papers. It's not that I have any affinity for cemetaries, it was just that it was the quietest place I could find to get away from school and people and just be alone.
5) All of my best friends in high school were Catholic. This wouldn't be strange, except I've never been Catholic. They called me their token heathen.
6) My father died of Wegener's Disease. (Well, technically he died of kidney failure, but the kidneys failed because of Wegener's Disease - better known as Wegener's Granulamatosis.) It's an incredibly rare auto-immune disease that makes your body not see any of its organs as its own - and therefore attacks them as foreign bodies. It got Dad's kidneys first and then went after his lungs before they got it into remission. There is no cure, and no one knows what causes it. They only know it's not contagious, it's not genetic, and they can't find any outside agent that would make it happen. It's is often misdiagnosed, especially at the early stages, and goes untreated until the patient is too far gone for any of the stop-gap treatments to do any good. Dad was misgdiagosed three times before he found a doctor who knew what the hell was wrong with him. Once, they mentioned it as a possible diagnosis on the show House.
7) On a happier note, I once saved a nest of bunnies who were exposed after the lawn mowing crew removed the cardboard box they were living under. None of them were injured, btw. When they were old enough, I took them out to the country to live next to the house where I grew up. I imagine the ghost of my dog is chasing them through the weeds even as I type this.
The bunnies once I put their nest back together.
The bunnies just before I released them.