Five things you don’t know about me…

This “five things you don’t know about me” meme has been going around for a while. I’ve been pondering it for about a month, wondering what I would say if someone tagged me.

A few days ago, someone tagged me. So now I really have to come up with something.

It’s not as easy as you’d think. I’ve been blogging about myself for six years, and in that time I have exposed myself quite a bit (remember the “12 Monkeys” set of memes?), so what can there be about me that loyal readers don’t already know? This is particularly tough given that it’s less than a year since I wrote the “Five Weird Things About Me” post.

But I soldier on. Obviously, there are very personal things that one wouldn’t disclose for the sake of a meme (you know, like that thing with the goat, and that time down at the beach when… well, you get the picture). But surely there’s something.

I’ve already mentioned that I’ve been married and divorced, that I used to fly gliders, and that I am (or at least was) a crack shot with a .22. You know about the correlation between dating me and changing your name to “Catherine.” I told you that I cried during “Titanic” and that I once drove a car at 160 kilometers an hour even though it had no brakes. (What, haven’t you been reading?)

But after a tough slog down memory lane involving some long casts into a dirty mirror, I did manage to come up with a few things. So here, dear readers, are five things you don’t know about me:

1. I had a mustache from ages 18 to 33. Photographs exist. You will not see them.

2. I have gall stones. To be precise, I have two gallstones, each about the size of a plump green pea. So far, they have given me no trouble, and the ultrasound technician who found them said they are too big to attempt passage through the bile duct, so they will likely never cause a problem. Martine calls them my “gall balls.” Fortunately, they are encased in bile, because otherwise I’d probably hear them clacking together as I walk down the street.

3. I have only pulled one “dine and dash” in my life. It was quite recent. In fact it was very recent – a matter of weeks. (It was the result of excessively slow service – and was actually a “drink and dash” as it only involved beers.)

4. A couple of years ago, on my way to a YULblog “first Wednesday,” I saw a man fall from a third-storey window ledge onto Ste. Catherine street. I later found out that he died (which I had pretty much surmised, by the look of things). I never blogged about it.

5. In April of 2000, I found myself in a rustic lodge at Deetjen’s Big Sur Inn. I was with a fella (settle down, he was a friend and the room had two beds). I was single at the time, and I was so taken by the place that I picked up one of the guest journals (filled with cheesy anecdotes from doe-eyed honeymooners) and wrote that someday I hoped to return to Big Sur, and to Deetjen’s, with the woman of my dreams. Four years later (almost to the day), Martine and I drove from San Francisco to Big Sur in a rented convertible, and we took a room at Deetjen’s. Not only did we take a room, we took the exact same room! (The “Upper Creek.”) I dug around and found the journal and wrote an addendum to my original note, saying that my wish had come true.

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