I like the rare sensation of being able to swing my legs, hence #1 and #2.
Unable to do simple conversions – how many quarts in an inch?
Almost changed my name to “Alexis” in between high school and college because “Alexis” was the name that epitomized normalcy.
Wasn’t named for the first year of my life, as my mom “got to know me.”
Never lit a lighter.
My mother’s jobs: hawked Indian brassware on NYC streets, sold homemade dried-flower arrangements at craft fairs, typed papers for Northwestern grad students in the pre-computer age, sole female apprentice in a woodshop, self-taught organic gardener.
Boyfriend woo’ed me with a spreadsheet of BBQ joints.
Upon seeing a Barack Obama senate campaign poster in my window, and learning that he too was of mixed race, my twelve-year old cousin remarked matter-of-factly, “Maybe he’s your father….” [I've never met my father]
My hair caught on fire at my seventh birthday party [perhaps why #7 is #7].
To prepare for a wedding, I cut off my bangs; no one told me that if you don’t want bangs, you grow them out.
I taught myself to ride a bike, balancing against the brick wall of our building, as my mother refused to let me use training wheels or to hold the back of my seat and eventually let go, sighting both practices as impediments to independence.
Prefer room temperature beverages.
In response to my selection as one of Chicago Magazine’s Top 20 Singles, a guy blogged:“She lite, mixed, tall and everything a woman needs to be. I could do without all that ambition though.”
Things that make me melt: white lights in trees, acoustic guitar, a summer-dusk breeze, good grammar, politically-incorrect humor, and carrot cake.