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Random 8

I was tagged today by jo_annie in Hawaii for this meme, so here are…

8 Random Facts About Me

1. I’ve only had a cell phone for the last 3 years. Yep, before that life was all about home phones and answering machines and actually making detailed plans on where to meet up with friends.

2. With all the chaos around tuberculosis these days, maybe you’d be curious to know that I had a positive skin test for TB. I spent a year working for an AIDS clinic in Uganda in 1999, and many of our clients had active TB. Plus, a friend of mine worked at the TB clinic across the street, and I would go and hang out with him once in awhile. I had a negative chest x-ray, but had to take 9-month course of Isoniazid just to be sure to kill off anything that could potentially develop into TB. That stuff is toxic for your liver, and is the reason why I can’t take Tylenol anymore, but better safe than sorry.

3. I can’t whistle. Don’t ask me why.

4. For about half a year in 2002, I had cherry red and platinum highlights.

5. No matter how much I travel, domestically or internationally, I always have to get to the airport freakishly early in order to avoid an overwhelming sense of anxiety that I’m going to miss my flight. This is sometimes tempered by traveling with my opposite-minded boyfriend. Once when flying to Seattle, we heard over the intercom, “Will passengers Mandi and Daniel please board at Gate 9? Your flight is ready to depart.” We’re working on finding a compromise somewhere in the middle.

6. The only thing I’ve ever had stolen, both at home and during my travels, was a battery-operated alarm clock that I foolishly had sitting visibly in the front mesh pocket on my backpack in Kigali, Rwanda. It was either taken while I was wearing my backpack, or when the backpack with in the back of our matatu with the other bags and cargo (and a chicken). Maybe the chicken lost her rooster?

7. If I’m in a deep subway station and I see a set of stairs next to an escalator, I ALWAYS have to take the stairs. Even if it’s 4 or 5 flights, even if I’m tired, even if I’m wearing heals. I think it’s a mixture of pride and stupidity that makes me do this.

8. My Dad used to (okay, maybe still does, once in a while) call me Mandirella.

The Directions

“Each player posts eight random facts/habits about him/herself and then tags eight other bloggers to participate. In turn, the folks who are tagged write a post listing their own eight facts/habits, along with these rules, and then tag eight more people . . . and so on.

Each blogger must list the eight people they are tagging, and visit their sites, leaving a comment notifying them that they have been tagged and inviting them to read your entry.”

And I’m Tagging…

1. Tyson & Traci

2. Travel With Emily

3. Schipegan

4, 5, 6, 7 and 8. Whoever else reads this blog and hasn’t already given a go at the 8 Random Facts!

3 comments

  1. WalksFarWoman says:

    Ah, we have something in common, I’m a stairs person too and for the life of me I can’t whistle! Be Happy! WFW :)

  2. Dad says:

    Better to be called “Mandirella” only once in a while than to have been named legally. It could have gone either way. ;-) Love you, Dad

  3. marigoldie says:

    Hey I’m just catching up on some reading here. And I figure I’d play along in the comments box with eight random things about me.

    I too always take the stairs next to the escalator. No waiting, right?

    I have no idea what I truly look like. This is probably a good thing.

    I’ve been close to four guys who’ve had major heart problems (three exes, one friend–all but one heart problem congenital)

    I collect antique family photos that have dogs in them.

    When I returned from camp the summer before sixth grade, I started speaking exclusively in rhyme.

    The other day I couldn’t stop caressing the black foam on my office headphones. It was so soft! But I knew I looked ridiculous.

    On that note, if something can be easily snapped apart and back together, I’ll do it obsessively. I take pens apart and little dashboard parts.

    As I age, I feel more and more like I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ll open my mouth and start speaking and then think, actually, “I don’t know what I’m talking about.” It’s not that details escaped me, it’s just that I never learned the details in the first place. I’ve gotten very skimmy.

    OK, that’s eight. That was fun. Carry on and happy 30th!

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