I am officially joining the ranks of bloggers telling five random facts about themselves. Lucky for me, this space is still new and I’ve got quite a trove of material to work with. So many interesting tidbits you don’t know yet.
The first non-babysitting job that fattened my wallet was pretending to be pregnant. For real. With thanks to my mom’s ties to the medical community, I got to be a fake-pregnant teen, a little test subject for students working on their patient interviewing skills. The pay was super excellent and I like to think I was prettttty convincing in my stories about a sudden and strange craving for peanut butter ice cream. Seriously, what could be wrong with me, doc?
I lived in a convent in Italy for one happy semester in college. It came fully equipped with four Italian nuns who breakfasted and lunched me (and 20 other students) every single day for four months. It was colder than an igloo in January when we all arrived, but by the end it was more similar to a marvelous day spa than anything particularly academic. It was the only experience during my undergrad years in which I was encouraged “not to study too hard” and instead “go take a nap on the deck”.
I come from a family of six, five of whom have (at least) one degree in a mental health field. Our checklist: bachelors in psychology (x2), school psychologist, psychiatric social worker and psychiatrist. As the case may be, you won’t be the first to ask if my parents psycho-analyzed me during my childhood.
My brother said enough with all the noggins and became a welder.
I am truly and inexcusably terrible with directions. Prior to my first day driving to high school- a school I had been attending for a solid six months- I asked my dad to draw me a map. I thought this was a necessary step for my timely arrival; it probably was. The school is a precise 2.0 miles from my parents home and includes three turns, one of which is out of our driveway. Ba-doom-boom.
Five, part a.
I keep trying to break up with my phobia of flying. It’s an on-again-off-again relationshop.
Five, part b.
I went skydiving a couple of years ago and loved it. You never feel so safe in a plane as when you have a parachute snapped jauntily to your back.