Six Things.

At least around these parts, today is “bring your children to work day.” Happily, you’ve all been spared a post of me ranting on about my boss’s bastard children being noisy the hall, or alternate reminisces about my childhood tag-along-to-work days spent in the cold, sterile world of dad’s microbiology lab; I’ve been tagged.

Direct all notes of gratitude to the lovely Ashley over at Turquoise Ribbons.

Here are the rules:

-link to the person that tagged you

-post the rules on your blog

-share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself

-tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs

-let each random person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog

I’ll start with this. It isn’t one of my six, but it just as well could be. My youngest sister sent it to me just this morning; the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Right. Moving on…

1. I own—and regularly wear—t-shirts from Boston College, Princeton, the University of Virginia, Georgetown, and the University of Washington. I did not go to any of these schools. My alma mater appears on little other than pajamas in my wardrobe, even though I loved going to school there.

2. I learned how to drive in a minivan, and had to drive it to school every day of my senior year with my little sisters and our carpool in tow. Added embarrassment came in the license plate: it was a gift from my dad to my mom, and it said “enchanter” (barf) except it was spelled NCHANTR. People always asked me what it meant. My parents sold the van before either of my sisters learned to drive, and retired that plate. I think my cries of “supreme injustice of the world” are what prompted my dad to buy me the very pricey car I now drive (it was a college graduation gift).

3. My ideal temperature is about 75’. I get cold easily, and I love it warm. Like, tropical warm. I rarely turn on the AC, and I have a heater in my office that is switched on to 80 most days. I could wear a sweater, sure, but I’m most comfortable in just a little t-shirt of frilly top. When I was living at home and studying for the bar, I turned the guest room/my study into a serious oasis; I counteracted my dad’s air conditioning so heartily that he demanded, after the exam, that I get my thyroid checked. He was sure I was somehow imbalanced; “this heat is so unhealthy,” he’d say. I checked out a-ok.

4. I really, really hate calling strangers on the phone—it kind of scares me. Friends on my cell phone, no problem, but otherwise, the phone is the enemy. I put off calling for things like doctor’s appointments until I feel “ready” to talk, and consistently, I’ll hope for voicemail when I call people. Maybe it has something to do with talking to someone I can’t see? Or asking something of an invisible someone? I don’t know. All I know is it’s an awfully unfortunate fear, seeing as a large part of my job is calling important attorneys and doing phone interviews. I feel like such a crackwhore every time I’m all, “so, what do you think was the significance of this ruling?” to a far-away voice. Seriously, I feel slimy. And it kind of makes my stomach hurt.

5. One of my favorite shows EVER is the off-the-air-in-2000 sitcom SportsNight. I never actually saw it in primetime, but I own the whole series on DVD. I watch it, a lot. I got into it in college, when one of my best friends brought it to our study group. We had hideous comprehensive exams in the winter of senior year, and we’d coop up for hours studying and discussing literary themes, then watching SportsNight episodes as an interlude. The show is seriously brilliant. It’s zany and intelligent and so, so good.

6. J’s nickname for me is “bean.” Originally, and sometimes still, it’s “stringbean,” which apparently I earned early in our relationship because, as he puts it, I’m “so tall and narrow.” I never had a nickname until this whole bean thing started, and it has grown on me, though maybe out of sheer necessity—he hardly ever calls me by my real name anymore. It’s always, “hey bean,” or “pass the chips, bean?” We’ll be out, and people are all, what did he just call you? But I love it, and all its derivatives—bean-bean, S.B., stringa bambina. I’ll answer to all of them. Odd, yes, but it warms my heart.

And now you know.

People to tag? Meh. I think this one’s been going around. If you haven’t done it and you want it, YOU’RE IT.