Anita, with the awesome Etsy store, tagged me for the 8 random things. Given my rather gabby nature, I'm wondering what's left that would seem random. I'm hoping that writing this in the middle of the night might help. (Me, that is. I'm reasonably certain it won't help you, but random is the point, eh?)
As is my standard practice, I'm not tagging anyone else, but be a sport and play along. We all enjoy reading these tidbits on others' blogs, so we'll enjoy reading it on yours too! Just note in the comments if you're considering yourself tagged so we can all wander over and read.
1. I don't like topless men. I'm a butt girl. I'd much rather oogle a cute hiney than a bare chest. (More random - Blogger's spell check doesn't recognize oogle or hiney, but suggests "honey" for the latter.)
2. Suddenly, I'm loving wood and bamboo needles. My poor collection of metal, and the poor Knight, who was sure he heard me say metal was all I wanted to knit with just a few months ago, would like your sympathy.
3. Are random and fickle the same thing? See, I've had fickle tendencies all of my life. Not with people though; if I call you friend, you can't beat me off with a stick. I'll pout and fuss - usually to dear Anners because she knows I still love these folks - but I'll still "BE THERE" for you.
4. I was NASCAR when NASCAR wasn't cool. I know many of you *STILL* don't realize that it's the hottest sport out there, but I've not missed many races (on TV) in nearly 20 years.
5. I don't know that I've drooled over a guy in that fangirl kinda' way since Shawn Cassidy in the 1970s. Can't recall ever uttering the words, "Oh, he's hot!" except when my stepson had a fever.
6. I don't dislike cats. I'm allergic, and Fred and the Knight dislike(d) cats, so there won't be any cats in my life.
7. One of my favorite, most loved cats wasn't even mine. My mother's 2nd husband (that'll be #8) had a blue point Siamese. The first time I went to the farm, my mother came strolling through the house, loudly warning me not to pick up - the big gray mass I had in my arms. Baron and I fell in love at first sight, and I'm gonna cry, 20+ years later, when I tell ya' he died - from grief? - prematurely a few weeks after I left for college.
8. My precious, perfect Father aside, I've not called any of my mother's husbands my stepfather, except for this one. Charlie is a saint, and he had me at the red wrought iron rooster door stop he gave me as a hello gift. We don't get to hang out, but he's a fellow Civil War buff, so what's not to love?
There. That wasn't so bad, and I think even Anne and my blogless, non-knitting sister might find a surprise or two in there. Note to self and anyone else still reading - this middle of the night while sitting on an ice pack, listening to Mugsy snore thing helps with randomness.