<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d13538966\x26blogName\x3dInsert+Witty+Title+Here\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://jackiekessler.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://jackiekessler.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-5204156626963119186', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Tuesday, February 27, 2007

"Get to Know" Tuesday

Damn you, Bam. Damn you.

What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?

Earlier today, I had to clean up leaking chicken from one of the fridge shelves. (Yes, chicken leaks. Mmmm, raw chicken juice.) There's other stuff in there, but I'm too squicked out by the drooly chicken to even think about it. My bedroom floor has about four laundry baskets filled with clean laundry that I have yet to put away. My nightstand has a lamp, cat hair, and piles of books. As for the garbage can...which one?


Look at your feet. Describe what you see there. Do you wear dress shoes, gym shoes, or none at all? Are you in socks that are ratty and full of holes? Or are you wearing a pair of blue and gold slippers knitted by your grandmother?

Dirty socks. I prefer boots, but will opt for sneakers (no artsy fartsy "gym shoes" here, thank you) or sandals, depending on the weather. My socks aren't ratty, but give them time. My slippers have holes in them. (Ooh, Jackie has to buy new shoes! What, a slipper is a shoe. Just ask Cinderella.)


When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell does you associate with it? Sauerkraut? Oatmeal cookies? Paint? Why is that smell so resonant for you?

All I think of is 1970s yellow and orange sunflowers adorning the walls. No smells. Probably because my mom usually didn't cook (she came home late from work most nights), and I think I've blanked out the memory of my dad's cooking.


You are doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?

"Throw out"? What is this "throw out" that you speak of?


It’s Saturday at noon. What are you doing? If you’re eating breakfast, what exactly do you eat? If you’re stretching out in your backyard to sun, what kind of blanket or towel do you lie on?

I'm getting the kids their lunch and thinking about the upcoming nap time (for Tax Deduction the Younger) and quiet time (for Tax Deduction the Elder) and how I can sneak in some writing. Oh, and I'm observing Shabbat. (Well, not really. But in my mind, I'm all s'hmaing and everything.)

What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

My dad and me, Saturday afternoons, reading comic books. We'd go to the comic store, buy a stack of comic books, and take them home. He'd sprawl on the sofa; I'd sprawl on the carpet. And we'd read. After, we'd talk about the issues--what we liked, what we thought was stupid, where we thought a plot was going. Even though I don't read comics anymore (well, not regularly--note to self: BUY THE BUFFY COMIC!), my dad fostered in me a love for the medium. And damn if I didn't get introduced to some amazing writers this way -- Neil Gaiman, Matt Wagner, Garth Ennis, Alan Moore...


You are getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?

Dang, we got a babysitter? Score! I'll put on makeup and do something with my hair. I'll wear a snug top and dark jeans and boots. Me and Loving Husband, off to WHO CARES WHERE, WE HAVE A BABYSITTER!

If anyone else wants to share, go right ahead. I'm all tagged/shared out!

2 Comments:

At 8:28 AM, Blogger Tempest Knight said...

*lol* Dad used to buy me lots of comic books, and then he'd read them to me. Until I learned to read. Then I'd read them to him. Heh!

 
At 10:17 AM, Blogger Tyhitia Green said...

My Dad thought his comic books were like gold. He kept them in a secret briefcase, but I still read some! Hehe! When I was kid, I read the Sweet Valley High series and romance novels--in middle school! LOL! In high school, it was Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe, and African-American poetry.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home