Real fast: Got a call from New Doctor yesterday regarding induction. She wants to get me going next Wednesday, May 14th, if I haven’t already gone before then. One week before my due date–when I started to ask questions, she totally blew me off. But you know what? I didn’t really care. I mean, maybe I would care if I wasn’t already dilated to 4, or if I weren’t dealing with contractions, or if every part of my body didn’t completely ache. But honestly, it doesn’t matter to me if this induction is scheduled strictly for her convenience–I’ll get to see my baby in 6 days or less. And I’m more than ready. Sweet!
And now onto my tag: Name 12 weird/random facts, goals, etc. whatever about yourself, then tag more people. I officially tag everyone reading this. Go.
- Hello, my name is Toni, and I’m a nail-biter. I’ve been nibbling since I was 3 years old. I’ve got some gnarly-looking man-mitts. When I run out of nail, I start biting my fingers. I’ve tried to quit, but then I have to resort to alcoholism for my relaxation pleasure, and am eventually forced to choose between the lesser of the two evils–naturally, the nail-biting. I do not, however, bite my toenails. I stopped that when I was 11.
- I have this degree in Graphic Art and Design, but if you asked me to produce anything via computer right now I’d probably have a mental breakdown, since I haven’t kept current in that industry’s programs and technology. I can still paint and draw, though, so that’s my fallback career–starving artist. That’ll bring home the bacon.
- Between July 2001 and February 2002, I was probably pulled over, by either local police or state troopers, about 20 times–for miscellaneous reasons I cannot fully reveal on this blog since my parents read it. In all but maybe one of those times, I should’ve gotten, at the very least, a hefty ticket, but I managed to avoid anything more than a verbal warning without having to so much as flash a boob. To this day, I swear it was the fact that I was hot yet I drove a P.O.S. car. There’s logic to that theory, if you really think about it.
- I hate pork chops. I hate barbeque. I love barbeque pork chops.
- I want to learn how to speak Spanish fluently. My plan is to watch as much Dora and Diego as much as I can before kicking it up a notch and buying Muzzy videos.
- My main reason behind wanting to learn Spanish is so that I can travel somewhat confidently throughout Central and South America during the course of my life.
- According to my calculations, I’ll have spent at least 31 years of my life raising kids by the time I die. Assuming I don’t have anymore after this one, and assuming that by age 18 they’re all somewhat self-sufficient, by the time I’m 46, I’ll have the ability to ignore my children without them shrivelling up and dying.
- I have an extremely low tolerance for alcohol. It used to be one of the things Caleb loved most about me. Now that we’re married, it’s one of the things he hates most about me.
- My long-term memory rocks. My short term memory? Not so much. I can remember my kindergarten teacher’s name–and the name of her aide–but don’t ask me which bills I’ve already paid this month, or what I wanted from the store in the first place, or why my cell phone is in the fridge.
- I’ve never shaved my arms. That may or may not be weird–but every girl I know has tried it at some point in time or another except for me.
- Except for heavy metal, I love all kinds of music. I’ve got Elton John, Green Day, Ludacris, and the Dixie Chicks–all on the same CD. When the kids are in the car with me, it’s nothing but easy listening, all the way. But when I’m out by myself, I make the most of it and listen to music with cuss words and sexually explicit lyrics as loud as I can stand it.
- I can’t stand clutter of any kind–knick-knacks, important papers–I’ll trash it in one obsessive/compulsive heartbeat if it means keeping a surface clear. My dear Caleb is a total pack-rat, so I’ve got my work cut out for me–do I throw it away? Does he really need it? Do I hide it in a drawer? Do I file it and hope can find it later? Can I fit it in the attic? This quirk came in handy when we were cleaning out the closet. But even still, I could think of a billion more things in our house we could stand to get rid of.