Even though I've been behind on my blogging, I will still honor the tag that several of you hit me with. Here are some little known facts about Emily:
I am a Michael Bolton fan. I am. I gotta tell you, I celebrate the guy’s entire catalog. For my money, it just doesn’t get any better than when he does “When a Man Loves a Woman.”
When I was little, I loved watching Rescue 911. It was so exciting, but it also gave me nightmares. I will always remember one episode where they were reenacting a B&E. I still have bad dreams about that big, fat man sneaking down the hall with his gun.
My husband is having a love affair. With guitar hero. Someone let him borrow it, and he probably won’t ever give it back. I think he likes it because every time he finishes a song, it tells him that he rocks. He’s always wanted to be a rock star, and in front of that playstation, he is one.
I was in a Rascal Flatts video. No joke. Mere and I went to Memphis for the video shoot of “Here’s to You,” and they ushered us right to the front row. If you slow-mo at just the right second, I’m totally there. My 15 milliseconds of fame. I have it saved on my tivo if you ever want to see.
I had OCD as a child. I would obsessively count EVERYTHING, and the number would always have to be even. It was especially difficult when I was riding in the car, as I would have to count all the letters on all of the road signs. Also, I had to keep everything I did even: if I did something with one hand, I would have to do it with the other. I was a weird kid.
I know you probably believe me when I say I was weird, but in case you need more proof, here goes. My favorite thing to do growing up was to hide in the closet with a book and a flashlight. I would curl up in the corner and read all day. No wonder I had to wear 8” thick glasses.
I also had a pair of awful looking boots that greatly resembled those worn by Granny Clampett in the Beverly Hillbillies. I loved them and wore them every day. When I was angry, I would stomp around the house in them until everyone knew I was mad, and, if approached, I would kick like the devil, which only enhanced the Granny image. When my siblings called me Granny Clampett, it only made things worse, and heaven help anyone who got close enough to feel my wrath.
I have also escaped certain death on several occasions. One instance that comes to mind is when Jack and I, newly married, were at the beach with a bunch of friends. Meredith and I had to run back to our room to get something before we all went out to dinner, so she parked and I ran to the elevator. When it opened, a man got out and I got on. He did a double take of me in my cocktail dress and high heels, obviously seeing me as an easy target, and he turned around and
got back on the elevator, staring me up and down with this sick grin on his face
. It was night, and there was nobody else in sight. I turned on the rocket boosters and FLEW off that elevator. He followed me off, but I was too fast. I jumped back in the car and forgot about whatever it was that I
had to have from our room. Haven't thought about that in years. Good memory.
You can ask Mere about the crazy Mexican man banging on our hotel door in New Orleans at 3 am when we were on our way to Costa Rica. That's another story for another day.
SB is calling, but that was a rather enjoyable trip down memory lane. Perhaps we can do this again soon.
