An Aside: Six Items of Interest (or not)

I wasn't really tagged by Sarakastic because she's nice and doesn't force anyone to do her fun little items. But I'll take the tag anyway. Her friend had tagged her to list 6 strange things about herself. Sarakastic listed 6 things of interest and I thought they were great. I'm trying to think if there are 6 strange things about myself that I'm willing to post where I know family members check. So I'll keep it family-friendly (not to mention, my 6 yr old genius is more computer literate than me, so I'd hate to have him stumble across confessions of the crack house I keep in our back yard). I'll shoot for 6 strange things but not sure if I'll make it.

1. My thumbs. They're darned strange. If I had the gumption, I'd get up, photograph them and put a picture here. But I don't. Maybe later, I'll add a picture to back this one up. But I have these little hammer thumbs. They're a gift from my birth-mom and her mom. Thanks Ape! I don't mind them. I hated them as a kid because other kids are cruel and will find anything to harp on. So in high school, when the guy you're desperately in love with calls you over to his lunch table just to grab your hands and go, "Check out these THUMBS!" to peels of laughter....um...yah, you might not be thrilled. Now, the only time they would be an annoyance is if I ever wanted to get fake nails - which, unless hell has frozen over and I didn't get the memo, will never happen. The thumb nails are wider than they are high. So yah, I dare some nail company to make one that will fit my thumbs. And then the question would be, why would I put on fake nails to draw attention to my nubs? The other annoyance might be if I ever decide to go bowling. Not candle-pin or duck-pin bowling in which you basically roll a big shot-put down the lane. No, I'm talking the Fred Flintstone bowling where you have to shove your little Vienna sausages into 3 holes in a 952 lbs stone. Now, the bowling balls with thumb holes big enough for my little pork links are heavy enough for a big ol' manly thumb. Ergo, my dainty flower self can't heft them. Again, I think the possibility of this becoming an issue is just a tiny bit greater than the nail issue.
   
   
2. Speaking of Fred Flintstone, let's talk feet. Again, we can thank my birth-mom. I have these little Fred Flintstone feet. Very short and very wide. Much like my afore mentioned thumbs. The toes are all pretty much the same length (like someone cut Vienna sausages in half and stuck them on the end of my foot). The big toes? They're BIG toes. Not long. Ping pong paddle big. And I get that term from my birth-mom. Actually, come to think of it, I think she said my birth-dad had the same ping pong paddle big toes. So I blame them both. It sure does make buying shoes fun. Yes, do you have a size 6 1/2, quadruple E? No? How odd? And please tell me what sadist decided that all women had bananas for feet? Honestly, I see the beauty in all of Carry Bradshaw's shoes. But who has feet that are shaped like that? I mean, aside from my tall slender sister!
   
   
3. While we're obsessing over body parts, did I ever tell you I used to have hair down to my knees? When I graduated high school, my hair was down to my butt. During 3 years in college, it made it down to my knees. Now, being about the size of a hobbit, you'd think that might mean I only needed about 18 inches of hair to accomplish this. However, I'm a larger than usual hobbit. I'm 5'3". So that was a lot of hair. And it's thick. My pony tail is....I don't know what to compare it to. Those hair bands for extra thick hair? I don't know what they think extra thick hair means but I break them usually after the 3rd time wearing them. My hair dresser used to book 2 time slots to cut my hair. He'd cut, wash it again and cut it again. Good thing we liked each other! Anyway, the long Cousin It hair was fun for a while. But washing it was a horrid ordeal. Pony tails gave me headaches. Some woman sat on my hair on the subway in Boston. I didn't know until my stop came and I tried to head for the door. Yah, that was fun.
   
   
4. Hmmmm....what else? Oh, as a kid I used to pray two things every night - very fervently. It was actually more pleading with God. First, that I would wake up and be a boy. Second, that I'd find my "real" parents (this was before anyone knew the term "birth-parents"). It is fortunate for me that God is wiser than I was at that age and he said No to #1 and Yes to #2. I wanted to be a boy because they seemed to be allowed to be rough and tumble and didn't have to wear the dreaded dress! They also seemed to get away with things that girls (or I) didn't. And then - because of the wonderful "reality" of TV - I was terrified to give birth. I didn't want to be screaming, sweating and biting down on a wooden spoon in a big ol' bed with a gorgeous homemade quilt spread over it. And God led my birth-mother to my college dorm phone 2 days after my 20th birthday in October of 1985. One of the best days of my life. Love you Ape!
   
   
5. I want a potter's wheel and kiln. I wouldn't be able to make anything beautiful for a long time but man would that be fun! As a kid, potter's wheels fascinated me. They made little toy ones that I was convinced would behave as real ones. I never got one. I was thrilled when our elementary school art teacher announced we'd be doing pottery. FINALLY! I would have my chance at the wheel! Um...not quite. Pinch-pots are NOT as fun. And in 5th grade, they come out looking like you were on crack when you made them.
   
   
6. As a young girl in the mid to late 70's, I convinced myself that Kate Jackson was my birth-mother. This was based solely on the fact that I had the same hair cut as her in her Charlie's Angels days. Because we all know that hair cuts are genetic.

Well, Stacy already tagged Trish. But I want to see her answers. So I'll tag my cousin Kendra because she's probably the only one that will take the tag. Oh, and her hubby Donny, too. He's good for some good answers!