Tidbits

• I remove my right shoe when I drive. I've been doing this since I received my permit at the age of 16. It's a habit now and I can't hardly break it.



• I wish I could have three animal kids. I currently have one: my Corgi, Daisy Mae. I would also like to have a koala and a river otter as my other animal children.



• I have to watch Golden Girls every night. It's part of my bedtime routine.



• I like houndstooth a bit too much. I'd like to gather up all of my houndstooth print items and take a picture so I could show you. That would probably make me sad because seeing all the items gathered together would make it real that I truly have a problem.



• I hate going to Wal-Mart more than anything. I think I'd rather use leaves as toilet paper than have to go to Wal-Mart.



• I have a problem with mail. I don't like opening it. Receiving mail as an adult is boring. It's all junk and bills. I don't want junk and bills. I want letters from pretend penpals that live in far-off lands. I want magazines and catalogs. I want packages containing lovely gifts. Alas, I only get junk mail. No fun stuff. I haven't even checked my mailbox in about a week because I hate it so much. My mailperson probably thinks I've abandoned my house. I haven't. I'm just boycotting the mailbox this week.



• I think my Dad makes the best grilled cheeses. Ever. I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty mean grilled cheese too. I learned from the best, though. There's just something about my Dad's grilled cheese that is magically delicious. Question: What do you have to have to go along with a grilled cheese sandwich? If you answered dill pickle slices, then you get an A+. I can't have a grilled cheese without pickles. It would just be wrong.

• When I unwrap the paper from a straw, I curl the wrapper around my finger to make a "bouncy swirl" out of it. I do this subconsciously. When I was out at a restaurant the other night, the chap I was with said, "You know, you always do that." I kind of like when people are super observant of our little quirks.