5 Random Facts About Me

My friend Rilla tapped me in a meme to share 5 random facts about myself, and I say yes when Rilla asks me to do stuff, so here goes:

my forehead and night hair

my forehead and night hair


I had a near death experience at the age of nine that wrecked my ability to hold onto religious belief but confirmed for me that we do have some form of continued existence after death. This is not a spiritual idea, it's just what happens in the same way that we have all been born to get here. Belief changes nothing. This can make my atheism a complicated creature to discuss.

And that's about all I will say about that for now, because I haven't figured out how to write about that experience yet.


I like putting IKEA furniture together. I really like putting IKEA furniture together. I love matching up the list of pieces with what arrived in the box. I love turning the instructions over and around to figure out what the hell they're going on about. I love the little Allen wrenches that come in the little plastic baggies full of fittings.

If I plan and remain patient, everything comes together, orderly, perfectly aligned, and smelling faintly of sweet wood.


I used to hate tea. I couldn't comprehend why someone would want the watery, ineffectiveness of tea when one could have the rich, meatiness of coffee to get them going. And then I met Irish Breakfast Cream tea from McQuarries Tea & Coffee Merchants. Now I think about it like I think about chocolate cake.

(By the way, this is not an ad. I just really like Irish Breakfast Cream tea.)


Last night I dreamed that there was a taxidermied squirrel on wheels hiding giant, dehydrated raspberries for winter. Aidan and the squirrel had developed a strong friendship that was making Aidan question the value of human love as well as living anywhere but San Francisco.

This dream is only notable because it is the first vivid dream I have both had and remembered in months, and it is actually a sign of better mental health. The truth is weird.


I wear Aidan's clothes when he's not home, because it makes me feel close to him.
Thankfully, marriage makes me look more like a wife than a creepy stalker with a fetish.

And now, as per the rules, I must tap five of you to share five random facts. Have at it Suebob, Alexis Hinde, Eden Riley, Susan Goldberg, and Vikki Reich!

UPDATE: They're doing it! They're doing it!

5 Things I Like: A Moment Caught, Close to Me, Claire Dancing, An Etsy Shop, and a Rate Calculator


This photo of girls playing netball in a Bedford College physical education class in England in 1937, because the girl on the right looks like she is both dancing and swooning:

see page for author [public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

see page for author [public domain], via Wikimedia Commons


The Cure's "Close to Me", because it manages to be both bouncy and sexy without being silly, and it makes me want to dance like Claire in The Breakfast Club:


Which brings me to another favourite thing — this GIF of Claire (played by Molly Ringwald) dancing in The Breakfast Club:


I love this mug and pretty much everything else in The Clay Bungalow's Etsy shop:


The nuSchool freelance project rate calculator, because it makes it easier to nail down a ballpark figure for your next project:

And that's five things I like!

I Got a Present! (For Which I Inexplicably Had to Fight Stoned Cats)

I got a present in the mail!

An American reader of this blog, Melly, wrote me a while ago to ask questions about the size of my feet. She swore that she wasn't being creepy or stalking me, especially since her passport had expired, and that, since I had shared my craft with her, she just wanted to share her craft with me. I figured, with an expired passport between us, what could be the harm? I sent my home address to her straight away.*

I had no idea what was in the package when it arrived. It didn't rattle or smell weird, though, so I figured everything was on the up and up.

Luckily, like that time I flew to Mississippi to hang out with an internet person I'd never even seen to live in a tin-roofed shack in the middle of nowhere for several days, no one died, and almost exactly like that trip, which left me with a lovely pair of stripy toe socks, I got a gorgeous pair of hand-knit socks out of the deal.**

As you can see from the photos above and below, though, the cats, Onion and Oskar, were also rather enchanted with my new footwear.

Although, I think "enchanted" is the wrong descriptor here. Witness the crazy leaping above and the clawed swiping below.

They were hysterical with new sock excitement. It was like my new socks were cat drugs. Can catnip be spun into yarn? Can cocaine?

Onion and Oskar scrambled in circles around my feet, smelling my toes and pulling at my heels with their teeth. I had to wipe cat drool off the phone's camera lens, and Oskar left a little goo trail around one of the toes.

When Oskar finally made a game of leaping up onto my back and then jumping down to bury his nose in the wool in a continuous circuit up and down and around my body like a coke-addled Tasmanian devil, I declared my sock photoshoot over.


You should hear my cat mom voice. It makes kitties disappear in less than two seconds. And, yes, this is how I really talk to my cats. Dudes.

Now that the cats have adjusted to the presence of these apparently amazing-to-kitties-crack-socks and stopped hurling themselves at and around them in a frenzy, I find these socks to be lovely and warm and perfect for my cuddling-down-on-the-couch wardrobe. If the animals manage to remain non-violent around them, these socks and I will be together often. In short, I love them.

From one sometimes knitter to one who is obviously much more highly skilled, these are great beauties. Thank you so much, Melly.

And also, Melly? You maybe just created a new invention with these kitty drug socks. Go be rich!***

* My life choices are not always advisable, and I do not condone their broad application.

** Again, not all rash decisions to share intimate life details or shack up in foreign countries with internet people you've never seen before end up with you getting fabulous socks. Be warned.

*** Melly just informed me that she has four dogs. Oskar hates dogs — HATES — which explains why he was all claws and leaping. He tried to beat up a large English sheepdog once because it had the audacity to stand where he could see it.