Are you Quirkier than The Zoo? {Top Ten}

It's 11:28pm.

Ed and I are making dinner.

Or should I say breakfast.

Peanut butter, jam and cheese sandwiches.

A fairly regular occurrence around here. The time, not the cuisine.

Seeing as I'm so very busy at the computer, I ask Ed to butter my bread for me. He gives me the eye roll.

It made me laugh and got me to thinking.

I've been meaning to but haven't done a Random Fact Friday post in a long while and there are a few million things that you don't know about me.

And perhaps wish you didn't.

Regardless, given my generous nature, if just one of you leaves this post feeling like you're not the only one that does "that", than my mission is accomplished.

Top Ten Things that Make Me Quirky

A Glimpse into the Life of Being Adopted.

A while back, I mentioned that I was adopted. I thought that I'd pretty much covered everything in 231 words, and I did... for me.

But then I realized, perhaps other people, adopted or not might have questions. So, I'm back (and still adopted) to try and answer some of your questions (which, I don't actually know what they are because you never told me).

Let me start out by saying (again) that my story is a happy one.

A success story.

I knew that I was adopted from the moment that I could know. It was never a secret. In fact, the opposite. There are probably more people who know that I'm adopted then don't.

For those not adopted, there is no question that your physical and character traits are a mixture of; your parents (for me that would be my adopted parents, herein referred to as "parents"), biological parents and some that are just you. For me, I don't know about the last two. What's me and what's them?

I wonder.

Obviously I'm not biologically related to my Mother and Brother but we share physical characteristics such as; fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. We look like family and many people don't believe that we aren't biologically related. And, with respect to my character, I am my Mother's daughter.

I had always thought that I was 90% Nurture and 10% Nature.

But then I had kids and now I'm not so sure. I see so much of Ed and I in them. Note that I know my kids are their "own people" and not just replicas of Ed and I. Maybe I'm more like my biological parents then I realized, maybe not. Regardless, I'm fine with it either way.

They are a part of my story.

Growing up, I remember frequently reading a book series called "The Adopted Family" which incidentally has found it's way into the kids bookshelf (Thanks for being a pack rat Nanna). I had two sets of parents that loved me. The other poor kids only had one set (smile).

I was special and knew it!

No one else in my class was adopted but that didn't matter. I never got teased. If I did, I don't remember. That was the 70's and while it wasn't the 50's, kids were still cruel and less open. Maybe I got off easy?

I remember a classmate, Jenny finding out at 12 (?) that she was adopted. It didn't go over well with her or the others. She was teased and ended up leaving the school shortly thereafter. I remember hearing stories about her years on and wondering if the secret of her adoption was the cause of any of her ill-fated choices.

I am so grateful that adoption was never a secret in my house.

Every year, usually about half-way through the day of my birth, I think about my Biological Parents.

I have no doubt that they are thinking about me. Perhaps they wonder what I look like (as I do them). Wonder if they made the right decision. Regret their decision. I hope not.

I am happy.

Over the years, I've thought a lot about finding my biological parents. My parents are 110% supportive. I know that Nanna would really like to meet them. I've started the process to find them several times but left it at that.

It's been about seven years since the last time. I figure that it will happen when the time is right. Note that I am well aware that you can't win a lottery without buying tickets and that if I want to find my biological parents I will have to do something. Some day.

To this day, Nanna tells me how lucky she is to have me and that she couldn't have made a cuter baby herself. How right she is!

If I had to sum up my feelings on being adopted, I'd say...

No Big Deal.

Feel free to comment with any questions you have. I have no problem talking about being adopted.

Note that Uncle Andrew and I are not biologically related.

Besos, The Zoo

I Tore my Knee Cartilage Playing Chess Highjumping.

Way back when, I told you that I was going to post about my life as a Championship Downhill Skier.

Before you go and get all mad at me for misleading you, I want to state right from the get go that tearing my knee cartilage for the first time actually had nothing to do with Skiing.

Have no fear, I'll be all over the Slalom and Bevelled Edges in a bit but first I want to bore enlighten you with "The Time I Tore My Knee Cartilage Highjumping".

Highjumping is Dangerous.
Just like Chess.

Yes, you read that correctly. Chess is dangerous. Not that I'd know from experience as I don't actually play (not from lack of trying).

I imagine that if you pushed the timer button enough times, you could develop a blister on your finger.

Or, a flying rook could poke you in the eye (while it's not technically listed under chess etiquette, I imagine it's not cool to throw pieces at one another).

D.a.n.g.e.r.o.u.s.

Back to highjumping. One day in 1985, I threw caution to the wind (I've been known to try and show-off tilt at windmills), and decided to hurtle and not highjump the highjump.

I'm not sure whether I went over or under the bar but I do remember that I sailed full over the large mattress and right by the adult standing there to prevent such an occasion. I landed on the ground. On my knee. With nothing to slow me down.

It should come as no surprise that I hurt myself.

I ended up dislocating my knee.

I can't really remember whether it was the act of falling or the act of undislocating (or is that relocating) my knee that tore my cartilage but it wasn't good. Back to the hospital we went. A regular occurrence for the parents of a Championship Downhill Skiier. In the end, I had to have my first (of two) arthroscopic knee surgeries.

The worst part, I ended up having to miss the end-of-year school trip to Canada's Wonderland. The second worst part, this event happened the second last day of school. You'd have thought with any luck, this would have happened at the beginning of school.

What does any of this have to do with my being a Championship Skiier?

Nothing.

Originally, I think that I was going to segway into how I tore the nerves, muscles and veins in my face when I did a faceplant on 10 pieces of jagged wood and how I have a 2" scar on my face to prove it. But, that would make a lot of people squeamish so I won't even mention it.

Perhaps I was going to tell you about the second time I tore my knee cartilage (this time I actually was skiing) and had to take the red-eye home from Calgary and head straight to the hospital for a second knee surgery.

Or maybe the time that I.

I think I know what I wanted to write about... Skiing is Dangerous.

Ever Injured Yourself?

Tweet Share this with Your Friends.

Get Caught Up in the Series...
8. I Tore my Knee Cartilage Highjumping,
7. I Got a Migraine to Avoid Ballet,
6. I Cut off all my Hair and gave it to Barbie
5. I Got Kicked out of Brownies,
4. I Pooped My Pants
3. I Almost Sold my Brother for 25 Cents
2. I Was Adopted,
1. I Was Born.

Besos, The Zoo

The Time I Got Migraines to Avoid Ballet.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Another event, just like all the others.

One where I'm out cash, have to dance around and wear a silly costume.

Is Ballet and Brownies some regulated form of torture Right of Passage?

Because every girl dreams of a mop like that...

To make a short story even shorter, fortunately for me, I got a migraine and never had to return to "The Ballet".

You ask my Mother and she'll tell you that

I loved Ballet.

Ya, like a migraine.

So I was trying to think about what teaser I would leave you with for next week. I mean, by now, I'm 12 years old which is half way to 24 and at the rate I'm going, that might just be next week.

I could leave you with "The time my girlfriends and I watched Risky Business for my 12th birthday". No, the 12 is not a typo. Regardless, I already ruined that surprize.

Or, I could tell you about the time that I moved schools out of my own free will and had to take a bus instead of jumping over the back fence. Which I never actually did but I could have because my house backed on to the school property. I really shouldn't be using the past tense because my Mother still lives there and my Dad grew up there. We also went to the same high school. Wow, I didn't bore tell you a lot.

But if I told you that then I'd need to tell you about the fact that I changed schools to pursue some "Gifted Curriculum" (cause I'm really smart don't you know). Then, I'd have to share about the time that my Mother made the Reviewers re-check my scores because to quote her "I sure was gifted but not in the ways they thought I was...".

But that would all be boring and seem like I was tooting my own horn and I always never do that.

So I think that I'll leave you with the *first* time that...

"I Tore my Knee Cartilage and had Surgery"

Because I'm pretty sure that with a title like that you'll be sitting on pins and needles until next week in anticipation of what exciting morsels of literary genius I will come up with.

Besides, I'm running out of stories that I remember prior to yesterday and it's high time that you knew about my life as a Championship Downhill Skier.

Get Caught up in the Series, it's Addictive!

8. Highjumping is Dangerous. Just like Chess ,
7. I got a Migraine to Avoid Ballet,
6. I Cut off all my Hair and gave it to Barbie
5. I Got Kicked out of Brownies,
4. I Pooped My Pants
3. I Almost Sold my Brother for 25 Cents
2. I Was Adopted,
1. I Was Born.

Besos, The Zoo

I Cut Off All My Hair and Gave it to Barbie.

Before I tell you about the time that "I Got Migraines to Avoid Ballet", I realized that I left out the time that "I Cut Off all my Hair and gave it to Barbie".

I was around four and playing at my friend Cindy's. For whatever reason, we were in her bedroom playing with dolls and scissors, alone. Ah, the good old days.

We had several beds for the dolls but no bedding. That wouldn't suffice (yes, we actually thought exactly that). What to do?

We were stumped. There really wasn't anything to use. I mean, we couldn't cut up the doll blanket, NO! Or any of Cindy's clothing, Double NO! And we'd be in serious trouble if we so much as touched her bedding. So, we used the next best thing, hair.

I'm not sure how I got to be the sucker lucky one. It probably has something to do with my severely generous character but my Mother picked up this...

RFF: I Pooped My Pants (But Not Yesterday)

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking:

At the ripe old age of four, everyone has an accident once in a while. Especially considering if it was on the day that you moved into your new house and your parents were neglecting you busy unloading and couldn't get you to the toilet on time. It happens.

Sure. But what if your parents shared this little piece of news with perspective mates and new friends?

Still okay?

Didn't think so.

Thankfully, there's therapy for those embarrassing moments (it kind of sounds like I'm about to launch into some advertisement about feminine products).

As part of my self-prescribed embarrassment therapy (of which I am a frequent client), I thought that I'd just shout it from the rooftops.

I POOPED MY PANTS!

There, I feel better now. Okay, not really.

In fact, not at all.

Did I just admit that "I Popped My Pants?"

I guess it could be worse.

I could have been talking about yesterday.

Get Caught up in the Series, it's Addictive!

8. I Tore my Knee Cartilage Highjumping.,
7. I got a Migraine to Avoid Ballet,
6. I Cut off all my Hair and gave it to Barbie,
5. I Got Kicked out of Brownies,
4. I Pooped My Pants,
3. I Almost Sold my Brother for 25 Cents,
2. I Was Adopted,
1. I Was Born.

  Besos, The Zoo

RFF: How I (Almost) Sold my Brother for 25 Cents

In order to maintain the chronology of my life story, I need to tell you about the time that I (almost) sold my brother for the whooping sum of 25 cents (in 1975 that was like $4,567,980,321,450).

The story actually begins six months before the successful fateful day.

It was the day that we picked my brother up from the adoption agency and brought him home. I was almost four years old.

I think that this event is one of my earliest memories. Interesting the things that we remember.

To this point, I was spoiled rotten the only child. My world as I knew it was over and I was pissed not pleased.

I played it cool but my repeated attempts to smother love him were all foiled.

So I came up with Plan B.

My mother was having a get together with a whole bunch of suckers nice ladies. I donned my apron (can still picture it today), inserted a plethera of dolls in each of the four front pockets and went about selling my wares.

As legend goes, I walked around yelling "Babies for Saaaale, Babies for Saaaale". Finally I had an unsuspecting fool taker and the deal was sealed with a quarter.

Little did she know.

Not one to renege on my promises, I immediately ran upstairs to my brothers room, took him out of his crib and attempted to leave the premises. I was going to load him into her car (or anyones for that matter). Talk about customer service!

Needless to say, my Plan (to rid myself of this parasite) was once again foiled.

On to Plan C.

All was not lost, I got to keep the quarter.

Be sure to check back next week when I tell you the story about...

"How I Pooped my Pants"!

This post was written in response to Insane Mamacita's Weekly Random Fact Friday Hop. Hop on over and see what other people had to share.

Besos, The Zoo

I Was Adopted as an Infant {Random Fact}

As I alluded to in my last post, I am adopted.

I was given up for adoption at the ripe old age of birth (and you know all about that).

According to my paperwork, my biological parents were in their late 20's. Both had been married (my biological father, was separated). They fell madly in love. While I can't say for sure that I was planned, they were definitely excited that I was on my way.

Things didn't work out like they expected.

For whatever reason, they both decided to put me up for adoption. Based on notes provided by the "Children's Aid Society of Ontario", it appears that I look like and have a lot of characteristics of my biological father. He was a real looker...

For the first five months of my life, I was placed with a foster family that had five kids of their own. Party. They documented my first smile, roll over, fever, you name it and put all this information in my file. I know that my parents appreciate having that piece of my history.

When I finally arrived in my forever home, the one that was made just for me, my parents were overjoyed.

Double win!

I have never tried to find my biological parents although I've always said that I would. I do not know their name or any identifying details. My parents would be 105% supportive if I chose to do this. We'll see...

I have known that I was "special" from the moment I could remember. It's not everyone that has two mothers and two fathers that love them.

Note 1: Ironicially, Ed is also adopted. I like to tell people that we met at an "Adoption Conference". Not true.

Note 2: My brother is also adopted. We are not biologically related. Although you wouldn't know it. More on that next week when I write about...

"How I Sold my Brother for 25 Cents".

TweetShare This Story of Adoption.

Have any questions? Feel free to post them in the comments section or send me an email (journeysofthezoo at hotmail dot com).

Get Caught up in the Series, it's Addictive!

8. I Tore my Knee Cartilage Highjumping,
7. I got a Migraine to Avoid Ballet,
6. I Cut off all my Hair and gave it to Barbie,
5. I Got Kicked out of Brownies,
4. I Pooped My Pants,
3. I Almost Sold my Brother for 25 Cents,
2. I Was Adopted,
1. I Was Born.

Besos, The Zoo

Random Fact Friday: Hard to Believe but, I Was Born.

Brandy, a fellow Canadian who blogs over at Insane Mamacita is running a social experiment called "Random Fact Friday Blog Hop".

The game works such that you write a random fact about yourself (bet you couldn't guess) and post it somewhere and then people read it and then other people comment and are thankful that they don't have your random fact, and, you probably get the picture.

Seeing as I'm (almost) always up for a party, I'm going to play along.

In order to strategically increase my chances of not repeating myself (or is that decrease my chances of repeating myself?) I thought that I would start at the beginning.

You know, how I was born and then my parents adopted me. The usual stuff.

But then it happened...

I dropped a piece of salad on my leg.

And since I'd put on my own homemade dressing (equal parts olive oil and balsamic vinegar, dijon-ie mustard and crushed garlic, yum), it stained the pants I was wearing.

Then, I got to thinking about the pants and that maybe it wasn't so bad that I'd stained them because I'd recently bought them (Laz House Special) and Nanna wanted to steal them really liked them. But now that they were stained maybe she wouldn't want them so I could keep them for myself. Although, I don't want stained pants either. Minor technicality.

And then I thought that if I made the random fact about me that "I was currently wearing stained pants", people would never read my blog again and it might even turn into another "Dirty Toilet Debacle" (you know, people wondering what exactly was on my pants) and then, I just forgot what I was writing about in the first place.

Then I rememembered and given my hubris above, I thought that I would just keep it simple. My random fact:

I Was Born.

Get Caught up in the Series.

8. Highjumping is Dangerous. Just like Chess ,
7. I got a Migraine to Avoid Ballet,
6. I Cut off all my Hair and gave it to Barbie
5. I Got Kicked out of Brownies,
4. I Pooped My Pants
3. I Almost Sold my Brother for 25 Cents
2. I Was Adopted,
1. I Was Born.

Besos, The Zoo