When I lived in Louisiana we had Mediterranean House Geckos. They are nearly transparent with a pale pink coloring. I called them flesh eater lizards because they creeped me out from their looks. I would find them clinging to my glass back door at night and they liked to squiggle their way into my house when I let the dogs out for their night time bathroom break. They are very hard to catch and would drop their tails off sometimes and you could watch the tail wiggle around all by itself. Creepy. I would find some squished between the door and the hinges or dried up and mummified under a bed or in vases, stuff like that. One day I went into our library and randomly picked up a book, opened it and there was a live gecko between the pages just staring at me. Scared me good. I took the book outside and let the lizard go. It scurried off into the grass like nothing special had happened. Now that I think about it I wonder how many other geckos were reading my books... So glad I moved out of state.
I was about 3 or 4 when my mother took me and my brother to the movies to see Bambi. When Bambi's mother gets killed by the hunters I started screaming and crying. Never saw that movie again but I never forgot it and have despised hunters all my life.Also: Fantasia got me banned from the movies (while Fantasia was still being shown for a few weeks) because I totally freaked out at the Witch Mountain scene. My brother was very ticked off with me for years because he never got to see the ending of that movie. When it was released for sale on tape I bought it for him just so he would stop his complaining.
I'm allergic to tylenol and ibuprofen. They affect my eyesight to where I feel like I am under water. It's very disorienting. Sometimes I get hives and difficulty breathing, too. I'm fine with aspirin, though.
I went to walk 3 dogs on leashes one day and the mini Aussie crossed in front of me as I was stepping down off the deck's step and I fell. Hard. I had broken my wrist on both sides. I had never broken a bone before and I wasn't absolutely sure my wrist was broken but I found I could not get my hand to work properly. There was a disconnect between my arm and my hand. I didn't have much pain so no trip to the doctor's office for me. I made a cardboard brace and wrapped it around my wrist and wore it - most of the time. - for 3 weeks just in case there was a break and then I threw it away. Two weeks later I had a dr's appointment and he took an x-ray of my hands to see how my arthritis was progressing. Low and behold he discovered my wrist had been broken. He was furious, nearly yelling at me, why didn't I get help and a cast for the break. I said I wasn't sure it had broken but that I wore a cardboard brace to be on the safe side. He demanded I head off to a medical supply store to buy a proper brace for my wrist. I did but didn't wear it much because my wrist had healed PERFECTLY. So I dumped the brace and the nasty doctor and my wrist is just fine and dandy, thank you very much.
When I was in second grade my best friend and I were walking to school. Boston would get bitterly cold back then so we were bundled up in such padded clothing that we closely resembled Randy from "A Christmas Story". I had heard from somewhere (probably my stupid brother) that we should never touch our tongue to metal when it was cold out for fear of becoming stuck and eventually dying of starvation. I mentioned this to Linda (my friend) and as we walked down the road passing parked cars at the curb she decided to prove that caution false. So she stuck out her tongue and touched it to the side of a car and she got stuck. It was fascinating to watch her go through the motions of trying to un-stick her tongue. Pulling away didn't work. Crying didn't help. Neither did screaming. However, drooling worked along with very heavy breathing onto the cold metal of the car. Linda yanked her tongue off the car, wiped her mouth of the bloody spit and we continued on our way to school. She would live to see another day. All I could think of was 'better her than me'.
Poor Urho has no knees. Obviously he won't be hopping around like a grasshopper any time soon. His chant sounds similar to "Lady bug, lady bug fly away home".
Some decades my hair will grow halfway down my back. Then other decades it won't grow below my shoulders. I have finished wondering why that happens. It just is. I am currently in the shoulder length hair again.
Oh. I'm a contrarian, much to my dismay, and I will not do something if someone says I should do it. It's an awful trait to have and I'm certain I have missed out on some marvelous things in life because of it. My husband understands me and knows to tell me how much he likes something - which peaks my interest - instead of telling me I should do something. I know it's a control issue and so does he and I am much more inclined to do something when a person tells me why they like something instead of insisting I do such and such. I just thought perhaps you were like that and had held off reading that book because of it.
So, are you a contrarian? Won't read something others recommend to you? I assure you that this book is well thought out with an excellent plot and a redemptive arc. It affected me as a teenager and I have read hundreds (thousands?) of books since then and it is still my most favorite book I have ever had the fortune to have read.
My favorite book is 'The Count of Monte Cristo' by A. Dumas. I have yet to see a true movie version of the book. But the Guy Pierce version is the absolute worst because they changed the ending. Absolute sacrilege!
So glad I moved out of state.
I didn't have much pain so no trip to the doctor's office for me. I made a cardboard brace and wrapped it around my wrist and wore it - most of the time. - for 3 weeks just in case there was a break and then I threw it away. Two weeks later I had a dr's appointment and he took an x-ray of my hands to see how my arthritis was progressing.
Low and behold he discovered my wrist had been broken. He was furious, nearly yelling at me, why didn't I get help and a cast for the break. I said I wasn't sure it had broken but that I wore a cardboard brace to be on the safe side. He demanded I head off to a medical supply store to buy a proper brace for my wrist. I did but didn't wear it much because my wrist had healed PERFECTLY. So I dumped the brace and the nasty doctor and my wrist is just fine and dandy, thank you very much.
I had heard from somewhere (probably my stupid brother) that we should never touch our tongue to metal when it was cold out for fear of becoming stuck and eventually dying of starvation. I mentioned this to Linda (my friend) and as we walked down the road passing parked cars at the curb she decided to prove that caution false. So she stuck out her tongue and touched it to the side of a car and she got stuck.
It was fascinating to watch her go through the motions of trying to un-stick her tongue. Pulling away didn't work. Crying didn't help. Neither did screaming. However, drooling worked along with very heavy breathing onto the cold metal of the car. Linda yanked her tongue off the car, wiped her mouth of the bloody spit and we continued on our way to school. She would live to see another day.
All I could think of was 'better her than me'.