51. My grandmother taught me to knit, and the women in my first college dorm got me knitting again pretty frequently. I belong to a monthly knitting group, but I'm not making much progress. Between Curious Girl and the cats, I've not managed to finish a sweater I started in Norway in 1995.
52. One of my favorite summer meals is fresh mozzerella, tomato, and basil salad. I love fresh-from-the-garden produce.
53. I also love breakfast. One of the things I miss now that Curious Girl is here is quiet mornings with my cup of tea and the morning sunshine in the kitchen.
54. I love crosswords. I got good at the New York Times crossword the summer I worked in the tennis shack, where there was often downtime.
55. I got my first library card when I was five and could write my name. I was so excited. I also remember being thrilled when I was old enough to check out books from the adult side of the library. But even before that, I would go over to the adult side and stand in the stacks reading.
56. I love libraries, and sometimes wonder why I didn't become a librarian. Mrs. Ptzinski, the children's librarian in my hometown library, was a big figure in my life. She took me seriously, and I got a lot of help from her selecting books.
57. I've been a feminist all my life, at least as long as I can remember being conscious of politics. And I remember being so moved and inspired by a PBS documentary on the Pankhursts and the British suffrage movement.
58. I've never been overly fond of my first name (perhaps because my mother told me she never liked it, either, but it just popped out of her mouth when a nurse at the hospital asked her what my name was. And so it stuck. She and my father hadn't been able to agree on a name before that.) But I do like the fact that Susan B. Anthony has the same first name I do.
59. I'm trying not to tell Curious Girl stories that will make her think, "I really wish my mother hadn't told me that story." I wish my mother had never told me she didn't like my name.
60. I prefer mittens to gloves.
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6 comments:
Mittens? Really? I feel so ... foopy wearing them.
Oh, and I'm right there with ya on #57. (Although I've never seen that PBS special.)
Mmmmm, mozzarella, basil, and tomatoes. A little drizzle of balsamic vinegar on top, some salt and pepper. Is there anything better than that?
But in case anyone's concerned that I keep proclaiming myself to be like you, don't worry: my grandmother did not teach me to knit. Nor has anyone else ever taught me to knit. Nor have I made any attempt to teach myself.
I don't knit, is what I'm saying.
Ha! When I get done with the 100 maybe we should have a post titled "In which Susan and Scrivener Distinguish Themselves."
I'm not knitting at this particular point in my life (Baby Blue not yet being trustworthy to not impale herself on knitting needles lying around). But I do make some kick-ass mittens, if I do say so myself.
I have some trouble telling Susan and Scrivener apart since Scriv got rid of the green hair.
And can you make foopy mittens, Phantom? (or is foopiness just a quality of the wearer, not the mitten, APL?)
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