May I suggest reading #1,#2, #4, and#5 if you really want to know why I am the way I am. Enjoy.

1) I fell on my head as a child. I distinctly remember a time when I fell from the top of our basement stairs to the bottom where I landed head first on our concrete floor - no gracefullness involved. My dad happened to be in the basement on the phone and witnessed the incident. I remember shrieking from pain and dad hurridly excusing himself from the phone call. I was probably around 4 years old at the time - well beyond the early walking stages of toddlerhood and should have never fallen down the stairs anyways. I had no fractures, no brain damage (that I know of, anyways), and no visits to the emergency room. My skull must be made of titanium or something - maybe I'm a mutant.

2) My brother discovered shaving at a young age. His discovery, however, was not only by his own making and bid me to be a part of his intruiguing experiment with mom's razor. This was, of course, during a strategic time when mom was not anywhere in the near vicinity to save me from pending harm. Sam held the pink razor of death in front of me looked me squarely in the eyes.         

 "Shave your tongue."

Now, although I loved and trusted my older brother deeply, I was not about to be convinced that this angry, pointy blade which thirst for my blood by mascarading as a quaintly constructed, pink feminine tool would do no harm to my precious taste buds.

"No!"

(But Sam, as I'm sure many of you have noticed, does not take "no" for an answer).

"Then...shave your leg."

"No!!"

"Just you knee then. C'mon, Heidi...."

"No, you shave YOUR leg."

"What? Boys don't shave their legs."

He was so persistent and I -merely a misguided little tyke- compromised and agreed to shave a part of my knee. Needless to say - blood everywhere in the tub; Sam running to get mom, wherever that woman was; Me - crying with thoughts of rushing to the emergency room receiving stitches and skin crafts swimming through my little 5 year old brain which, naturally,added to my already heightened state of hysteria. Instead, mom decided to show up with a wash rag, some peroxide, and a Sesame Street bandaid.

 I can take several things away from this event: Never agree to participate in an activity when your older brother begins by saying, "Let me show you something." Never trust the innocent appearance of feminine accessories they are the devil. And - Always know where your mother is so you can frame your brother when she asks why your bathroom tub coated in your blood.

3) I was always throwing up. On my birthday, on Christmas, on Thanksgiving, on rainy days, on sunny days, when I was at my house, when I was in the car - yes, my stomach never ceased to be ill at ease. Thankfully, this stage in my life has passed, much to the gratefulness of my family.

4) I have never been one to participate in physical fighting. A few verbal bashes never hurt anyone. No,that's totally untrue. Verbal bashes hurt people all the time but truly - sometimes the truth hurts. Anyway by telling the truth I got in a little - tussle - with a girl who I can barely recollect but can remember very well especially the part where I got the wind knocked out of me. I was playing with my friend Katie on her front sidewalk - she didn't have a front yard - and her neighbor who was roughly our age, happened to be outside as well. I'm not sure what we were playing, but I was lazily swinging myself from a low hanging limb of a tree by the street, while talking to Katie. Her neighbor came over and interrupted our discussion by bragging about some new toy she had and how amazing it was. No doubt, she was a pompous ass, although I would have never said that to her. Frankly, I didn't even know what an 'ass' was let alone a 'pompous' one, but somehow I communicated my great disapproval of her awesome toy to her. I must have not been very strategic in my word choice because the next thing I knew, I was laying in the street staring up at the tree from which, moments ago, I was swinging. In mid sentence the beastly, pig-tailed, blue-coated brat had pushed me into the street where my breath ceased and I felt like fainting. I lost that fight because Katie took my hand and drug me back into her house while I was still in shock and probably couldn't have fought her anyway. Thankfully, Katie's family moved and I never saw that boorish child again.

5) I am fortunate enough to declare - I have been trampled by a frightened herd of fat sheep. Setting - Elders Retreat at McClure Farm somewhere way- faraway from Lititz, but still, as my parents tried to convince me, in the great state of Pennsylvania.Characters - Aaron, Danny, and Kirsten Gotwalt; Ryan and Katie Shelley; Sam and me; An angry farm horse and a rather skitterish herd of obese sheep. Somehow, we had gotten ourselves trapped between the broad side of a barn and the only exit out of the farm yard which was being guarded by the angry horse which the farm hands had neglected to replace in the stables for the night. As we children (as frightened as we were) began looking for ways to hop the fence which was about 1000 feet tall, the horse reared, stomped, and snarled sending a nearby herd of overweight sheep into a fright. Wanting to increase their distance between them and the devlish horse they ran from one side of the farm yard to the other, but not without making sure they ran over me first. For the most part, I was unharmed, but very shaken. A few bruises never hurt anyone, I suppose.

I came home from my first year at school last spring, and planned on working all summer, with an occasional weekend off for extravagent adventures. Making money, saving money, and sleeping were to be the orders of my life. And all was going well for a while. Just a while. These tasks were actually not even interrupted - only my psyche. For all of a sudden, I was not surrounded by the sequestered and calm circles of which I was used to in the former years of my life, which have not yet been many, but instead, I was astounded and taken back - shaken from the foundations of my  singleness - to realize how many of my friends suddenly got married, engaged, or might as well be. 

You know the phrase, "Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride?"...well, I have exceeded that. There's no saying like that for groomsmen...If someone said to a guy who had been a groomsman three times "Dude, three times a groomsman, never a groom," I'm sure the response from the former would be more like, "Phew! You just WISH you had my luck. I was hoping I'd get out of a marriage." Ok, maybe that's exaggerating, but this is absurd. I'm not desperate - I'm shocked. Or perhaps a better term would be taken aback by all this loooooove that surrounds me.  Maybe I just know too many people my age.  I'm going to start hanging out with seniors. That would be fun. And I could freshen up my bingo and poker skills. See? There is a positive side to everything.