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rj_andersonThanks to a freak accident, I have a large knobbly scar in my left armpit.
I was six when I was climbing the ladder on a makeshift jungle gym at my friend's house, and the ladder started to fall backward. I reached out with my left arm (my dominant right arm still being locked in a death grip on the ladder), and the top of the tin ladder jabbed right into my armpit. Three stitches later...
My poetry has been published in a national magazine.
I was twelve when I took third place in the original poetry category of a yearly contest held by Young Ambassador (the magazine no longer exists, but it had North America-wide distribution to the Christian teen market), with a bit of free verse called "Thumbprint" for which I was paid the princely sum of $7.00 and got to see my poem printed up with a nice glossy photo illustration. To this day it remains my sole experience of publishing for profit (though it probably wouldn't if I weren't so dratted lazy about marketing my work once I've finished it), and I've got a framed copy of it in my filing cabinet.
I was born in a small hospital in Kampala, Uganda, Africa.
Yep, Mengo Hospital was my birthplace, since my parents spent three years in Kampala while my father taught Bible at a nearby school. We moved back to Canada when I was six weeks old, however, so I don't remember anything about it.
Neil Finn (lead singer of Crowded House) was once rather rude to me.
For my sixteenth birthday my youngest brother managed to get me prime tickets to a Crowded House concert at the Grand Theatre in Sudbury. It was a fabulous evening of music, and the banter between songs was hilarious, though Neil was clearly unimpressed by the teenybopper squealers in the front row ("I love you, Neil!" shrieked one, and received a look of utter scorn and the withering response "Look at this girl, she doesn't know me from a bar of soap and she thinks she's in love with me.").
By the end of the show, however, Neil appeared to have progressed from cynicism to bitterness; possibly he was resenting that he'd been sent to northern Ontario in minus-30 weather, I don't know. Anyway, when we headed outside a few minutes later to see if we could catch the band before they boarded their bus, Neil was there signing autographs in a rather savage fashion. It was then that I sidled up to him, cleared my throat, and said, "Um, can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah," he said shortly, still writing.
"What's Roll Back The Tombstone about?"
He didn't even look at me. He just said brusquely, "I have to go now, bye," and disappeared into the bus.
Oh, well. It wasn't a very bright question, I will admit. But I did get to talk to Nick Seymour and he was both charming and funny, so the evening wasn't a total loss.
My two sons are named after members of Duran Duran. When I named my first son Nicholas and my second Simon, my brother jokingly accused me of having named them after Nick Rhodes and Simon Le Bon. It's true that I was a mad little Durannie at the age of fourteen, but by the time I had my kids I was sufficiently past my adolescent mania to not even notice the connection until my brother pointed it out to me. If my liking for the name Nicholas owes anything to a connection with celebrity, it's probably Nicholas Rowe. But more to the point, both names are also found in the New Testament.
It's obvious that a) I didn't take enough time compiling this quiz and b) you all know me too well, because nearly everybody guessed right. Heh.
I was six when I was climbing the ladder on a makeshift jungle gym at my friend's house, and the ladder started to fall backward. I reached out with my left arm (my dominant right arm still being locked in a death grip on the ladder), and the top of the tin ladder jabbed right into my armpit. Three stitches later...
My poetry has been published in a national magazine.
I was twelve when I took third place in the original poetry category of a yearly contest held by Young Ambassador (the magazine no longer exists, but it had North America-wide distribution to the Christian teen market), with a bit of free verse called "Thumbprint" for which I was paid the princely sum of $7.00 and got to see my poem printed up with a nice glossy photo illustration. To this day it remains my sole experience of publishing for profit (though it probably wouldn't if I weren't so dratted lazy about marketing my work once I've finished it), and I've got a framed copy of it in my filing cabinet.
I was born in a small hospital in Kampala, Uganda, Africa.
Yep, Mengo Hospital was my birthplace, since my parents spent three years in Kampala while my father taught Bible at a nearby school. We moved back to Canada when I was six weeks old, however, so I don't remember anything about it.
Neil Finn (lead singer of Crowded House) was once rather rude to me.
For my sixteenth birthday my youngest brother managed to get me prime tickets to a Crowded House concert at the Grand Theatre in Sudbury. It was a fabulous evening of music, and the banter between songs was hilarious, though Neil was clearly unimpressed by the teenybopper squealers in the front row ("I love you, Neil!" shrieked one, and received a look of utter scorn and the withering response "Look at this girl, she doesn't know me from a bar of soap and she thinks she's in love with me.").
By the end of the show, however, Neil appeared to have progressed from cynicism to bitterness; possibly he was resenting that he'd been sent to northern Ontario in minus-30 weather, I don't know. Anyway, when we headed outside a few minutes later to see if we could catch the band before they boarded their bus, Neil was there signing autographs in a rather savage fashion. It was then that I sidled up to him, cleared my throat, and said, "Um, can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah," he said shortly, still writing.
"What's Roll Back The Tombstone about?"
He didn't even look at me. He just said brusquely, "I have to go now, bye," and disappeared into the bus.
Oh, well. It wasn't a very bright question, I will admit. But I did get to talk to Nick Seymour and he was both charming and funny, so the evening wasn't a total loss.
My two sons are named after members of Duran Duran. When I named my first son Nicholas and my second Simon, my brother jokingly accused me of having named them after Nick Rhodes and Simon Le Bon. It's true that I was a mad little Durannie at the age of fourteen, but by the time I had my kids I was sufficiently past my adolescent mania to not even notice the connection until my brother pointed it out to me. If my liking for the name Nicholas owes anything to a connection with celebrity, it's probably Nicholas Rowe. But more to the point, both names are also found in the New Testament.
It's obvious that a) I didn't take enough time compiling this quiz and b) you all know me too well, because nearly everybody guessed right. Heh.
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no subject
Date: 2003-10-20 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-20 08:06 pm (UTC)Nicholas and Simon are really lovely names, though. And adorable boys. :)
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Date: 2003-10-21 08:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-21 12:29 pm (UTC)