No mechanics in my past. K could have taught me to change the oil or the brake pads, but we were too busy discussing our real boyfriends to take time out to muck around inside an automobile. Also neither of us owned a car in college. You might be into fantasy car repair, but you are at the wrong site if that’s the case.
Fear of heights? Yup. OTRsis and bro jumped across roofs (over the 4 story drop to the concrete passageway). I never did. Heights make me nauseous. This is why I like climbing with a rope, and I’m usually very careful near edges. I hate bouldering. With a rope I am fearless. But bouldering? The part where I project myself toward a rock sliver and hope my buddies below are able to guide my falling carcass toward a tiny mat? Not me, not now!
The real truth is that while I’m scared of heights, I’m also an adrenaline junky. Therefore, as long as I feel in control of the situation, or trust the person who is, I’ll try it.
Scotland? After med school and PhD graduation and before the start of Jrex’s internal medicine rotation we took 14 days and maxed out the credit card on a 14-day trip to London and Scotland. I even have a scrapbook of the adventure (my one and only venture into that mysterious world…)
Racist dog? Sad, but true. As kids we had god-brothers and sisters in a range of ethnicities; the worst of my bro’s teen rebellion was his racist phase.
As he and the dog walked by an African-American he’d say, “Sic ‘em!” The dog didn’t care, but the person would jump, which excited the dog, then Bro praised her for jumping. Pretty soon she jumped toward ‘people of color’ every time she walked by them.
And yes, she chased rocks not sticks. She could jump a chain-link fence with ease. Her weirdest quirk was digging mini-boulders out of the field and insisting on dragging them home, her head awkwardly tilted to carry the rock. She had a pile she ‘hid’ under the baby grand. (Yes, we lived in the ghetto and had no money, but could walk to a grass-covered baseball field. We inherited the baby grand from Dad’s parents.)
So there you have it. Even my own sister, who’s heard all the boring boyfriend stories, didn’t get it. Ha! I win!! (Would you guess I’m just a little competitive?)