Day 16
Think back to K-12 school. Who was your favorite teacher, and why?

You’d think I’d list a music teacher, but my favorite teacher ever was Mrs. Pauline Lewis — 8th grade English. She loved to read and write, and especially enjoyed challenging her kids.

• She ruled with an iron fist (even though she was only five feet tall), but I could tell she cared about us.
• She demanded correct spelling and proper grammar.
• She loved to do spelldown spelling bees (I won a copy of The Andromeda Strain once — she always gave out books as prizes).
• She actually looked at you and listened when you spoke to her.
• She inspired my love of writing for personal meaning and reflection, which gave me a crucial safe haven when I was the new kid at a strange school in a strange land, where kids talked with a funny accent and threw snowballs at me as I walked home from the bus stop carrying my violin, and who gave me fantastic nicknames like “Old Milwaukee,” which, incidentally, I would find quite flattering today.

Second place would probably go to Miss Rinehart, my third grade teacher. She was pretty, and wore the latest fashions — and in 1968, those were pretty wild. She smelled good, too.

Ready, steady, remember.

We are halfway there! I’ve really enjoyed reading everyone’s responses so far. My objective (to know more about my RtB fiends) is paying off. Seriously, I LOLd at Greg winning a box of Jell-o for a Bingo prize. HAAaaaa

So…the final countdown. It’s go time.

Day 15
What is the sickest you’ve ever been? (Not including infant ailments you can’t remember.)

In 1983, when I was three months pregnant with Lars and visiting family in Dallas, Mavis and I took the husbands out to Bennigan’s, where I ate a delicious steak that also happened to be laced with some evil bacteria. I ended up in the emergency room at the local hospital. Get this: they made me stand up to give blood. Nice, eh? A little armrest thingy folded down from the wall, and they bled me while I stood there. As you might expect, I was dehydrated, nauseated and weak from the constant barfing, and wound up on the floor. Kablam.

I worried every day that Lars was going to be infected somehow. You can imagine my relief and happiness six months later (as well as every single day in the 27 years that followed).

So do you remember being so sick you wanted to expire? I’ll wait till after breakfast to read; I’ve made myself kind of ooky. *hORk*

Day 14
Have you ever won anything?

Yeah — with BoomR! It was a vocal contest at some auditorium in Lima, Ohio. We won, yay. The studio experience that followed was incredible. The following year (1986), I won another competition. More studio time, more fun. Oh, to have that 27-year-old voice back…

I’ve won a few royal flushes in my day — always fun. Oh, and years ago I won a plastic box full of colorful scarves in a raffle at an elementary music geek workshop I was forced to attend. I’ve used those things a hundred different ways! They’re still in the costume shop at school.

All right, big winners. Fess up.

Day 13
Tell about a secret career desire. What job would you love to have?

I’ve always wanted to do voice-over work for TV and radio commercials. You know, like sing jingles and read ad copy. (BoomR and I recorded some jingles back in the eighties, and it was a blast.) In fact, in 2007, I contacted an agent in Cleveland, and he told me to send him some recorded samples of my work. Alas, I started my doctoral stuff and lots of things got pushed off the priority table.

Who knows…I still might do it. I mean, what easier job, right? Show up to a studio in a sweatshirt and jeans, do what you do, collect the check. All I need is a recording. Gotta phone somebody about that.

How about you? Ever think, “Hey, I’d like to do that”?

Day 12
I believe…

…that a lot of relationships are ruined because someone had to prove he/she was right.

…that there are still caring, wonderful people in this world.

…that relentlessly insisting you have your way, in some way, comes back to bite you.

…that asking forgiveness is often easier than asking permission — unless they don’t forgive you.

…that the chances I will find my keys are inversely proportional to the number of places I look first.

Any credo you’d care to share today? If you’re writing, I’m reading.