Five things you don't know about me

Last seen at Dr. Crazy's.

I'm calling my version "five things you (probably) don't know about me" because I can never remember what I've shared on here and what I haven't, and I have a lot of pre-blog friends who visit The Clutter Museum, so they probably already know some of this stuff.

1. Near the end of my eight years of orthodontics, I liked to try to intimidate new clients' parents. My orthodontist had two chairs per room, and thus patients could see each other. He'd even do consultations with new patients and their parents in a shared room. Each chair had a large tray/drawer in front of it, and on the tray there was a slot where he could slide a patient's folder so that it rested vertically. Only my folder was too thick--much too thick--because my treatment had been so long. So I'd look quizzically at the other patient's upright folder, then at my horizontal one, and I'd pick mine up and thump it against the folder slot, trying to force it into the slot. Then I'd sigh and slump back in my chair, pull out the contents of my folder, and open up the treatment chart. The charts were kind of like manila folders in terms of weight and size, only mine had so many charts stapled to it that it opened like a road map. And so there I was, in 1992, when I had my braces taken off, and I would look back at the date of my first visit and mumble-sigh, "Nineteen eighty-threeeeeee." Early passive agression from trillwing. Good times, good times.

2. Before I had the ultrasound that revealed Lucas's sex, Pete and I had both been hoping for a girl, though not desperately or anything. I just had always imagined myself having a girl, and Pete thought it would be an interesting experience to raise a girl. We're now thrilled to have a son, of course. But had Luke been a girl, his name would have been Katharine, and we would have called him Kate. It was much easier for us to agree on a girl's name than a boy's name.

3. I have an M.A. in poetry writing, also from the institution where I earned my Ph.D. Most of my peers and even my mentors don't know this. It's not exactly a secret shame, but I don't broadcast it either. Tip: If you're going to get a master's in creative writing, be sure it's a terminal degree (MFA).

4. In college, I won a Phi Beta Kappa Scholar's Award--even though I wasn't PBK--for an essay I wrote about my family's predilection for settling along major geological faults. The other winner was recognized for some kind of brillance in chemistry, I think. I like that my family's disastrous sense of seismic probability turned into a line on my CV. At least we got something out of it.

5. I am practically innumerate. There were a couple of semesters in high school where my report card listed seven As and an F (in math) or seven As and a D (in physics). When I applied for college, those grades kept me out of my back-up school.

6. (Bonus!) When I was growing up, I didn't know that there were such things as "businesspeople," the kind who wear suits and work in offices. I knew there were teachers (just about everyone in my family was one), realtors (we received notepads with their faces on them), dentists, radio broadcasters (WKRP in Cincinnati, baby!) supermarket checkers, police, firefighters, train conductors, veterinarians, doctors, librarians, and others that a kid might run into in the course of her day. But even in high school and college I was fuzzy on the whole concept of corporate life because I'd never been exposed to it.