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Location: Midwest, United States

I floss daily, brush after every meal, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries.

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Thursday, November 13, 2008

Ten Things I Was Wrong About

1. Beer: I thought it was pissy, bitter, and thin. But then I spent a year abroad in Ireland and discovered Guinness. In the little town where I lived, the three pubs were the only fun going most evenings, and I learned to love hot whiskey and room temperature stout. Guinness was everything that cheap American beer was not: creamy, full-bodied, and delicious. And it lacked one of the main things I realized I did not like about your average pilsner: carbonation. After falling in love with Guinness, it was only a matter of time before I moved on to porters, bochs, and brown ales. Yum.

2. Sleep: I used to be able to get by on 5 hours a night, at least for a few nights in a row, and I believed that less sleep equaled more life. Now I know that sleep is one of the best things about life and that I'm worthless without at least seven and a half hours. But I prefer eight.

3. Flared jeans: My favorite pair of pants in second grade were electric blue polyester bell bottoms that came with a matching butterfly print sweater. Though I loved them at seven, by high school, I had repudiated my seventies childhood fashion sensibilities and pledged my devotion to peg-legged Zenas, casting a cold eye on the flares of my youth. When flares started coming back in in the nineties, I silently resolved I'd never give in and go back to flared pants. But then I came across a pair of purple jeans at the local hipster thrift shop, and when I tried them on, I noticed that the hems were not merely boot cut, but a bit flared. They were six bucks, though, so I bought them anyway. They soon became my favorite pants. Since then many pairs of flared jeans have found their way into my closet and my heart. I know "skinny jeans" have made a big comeback, but I'm sticking to my flares. I love them because they're flattering to people of all body types. With skinny jeans you're taking your chances if you're too skinny, or not skinny enough.

4. My town: When I moved here from the big city to go to graduate school, I assumed I'd be bored and cloistered. I actually made a list of things I planned to do to while away my non-studying time. (It included: ice skate, make my own yogurt, bake bread, and quilt - all so quaint, so Midwestern. I did a bit of ice skating my first year here; otherwise, the list was a bust.) When I got here, I was pleasantly surprised to find it was a fine place to party and an excellent place to start a rock and roll band. Still, I definitely planned to move away some day. When I shacked up with my Old Man, I began to appreciate the town more. Then I found my one-of-a-kind teaching job, and my love for my town increased. Once I had a kid, I discovered so much more to love about this small but cultured, low-key, and affordable hamlet.

5. My dear: When I first met my Old Man, I thought he was arrogant. I soon realized he was just shy and socially awkward. Later, I figured out he was the love of my life.

6. Kimya: At first, her music drove me up a tree. Now, I think she's a brilliant songwriter with a sharp wit and a heart of gold.

7. Black licorice: As a kid, I disliked black licorice and would only eat red licorice. Now I realize that there's no such thing as red licorice. Black licorice is the only true licorice. Call the other stuff what you will - red vines, Twizzlers - but don't insult the pungent glory of real licorice by calling it red licorice. (White chocolate, same to you.)

8. Feral Mom: When I first met her, she appeared to be a soft spoken Irish lass with winsome curls and a collection of especially pretty sweaters, and I took her at face value. She just seemed nice. Boy was I wrong. When I got to know her, I found out that she was so much more than just nice: she was a foul mouthed, dirty minded, chain smoking, beer swilling hellion. I liked her so much more. She quit smoking and had a couple of cute kids, but she's still as raw and as rock as ever.

9. Yoga: I used to think that yoga was all about stretching, relaxing, and finding your happy place. Now I know it's about getting my ass kicked by a domineering woman who flies to India for two months out of every year to get her ass kicked by an eighty-six year old Indian man.

10. TV's Funniest Home Videos: I once considered this total time-wasting television drivel, lowest common denominator stuff. Then O. turned me on to it, insisting that we watch "that show with the silly videos" every time we were home and unoccupied during its magic time slot. Now I realize that this show is pure comic gold, a motherlode of slapstick humor and schadenfreude.

There you have it. This is a meme, so if you're so inclined, go forth and list.


Blogger Orange said...

Sister, you are absolutely right about Funniest Home Videos. We disdained its lowbrowitude until it captivated Ben—and unlike Barney and other things that captivate small children, this can captivate a sentient adult too. Babies + pets + men falling off ladders = comedy gold. Did you see the one the other day with a toddler who throws himself to the carpet and wails dramatically, but when Mom walks out of the room he stops, picks himself up, and walks toward the doorway of the room Mom went to--so he can hurl himself to the floor and wail for attention with a suitable audience?

7:33 AM  
Blogger Feral Mom said...

I'll have to give Funniest Home Videos another shot. I always did have a soft spot for Saget, so that helps.

Thanks for the shoutout--I was wrong about you AND your Old Man too, that's for sure. Individually, though, not as a couple: I was right about that! yay.

My world verification is "fatat." I'm not sure how to take that, but I will stick to my boot cut jeans.

8:28 PM  
Blogger E. said...

Dude, you were right about that. And I've always been very glad of it!

8:39 PM  

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