If anyone else had asked me to fool around with this “meme” thing, wouldn’t a’ done it because I’m a SERIOUS multi-syllabic writer who has read important French stuff. Okay, there’s one.
Two, right this moment I’m allergic (no snow to keep dust, fungus and other invaders from floating around). The muscles at the base of my skull are a big fisted knot and my ears sing like two teakettles. This morning I quickly drove to Cut Bank (the closest pharmacy, which is thirty miles away) to pick up a prescription. I’m dismayed to see that it says “may take several days to be effective.” You might surmise from this that I’m not a good housekeeper and I’m really a bad patient, and you would be right. I’ll count those as freebies
Three, when I was little I had naturally curly bright-red hair. I assumed this meant I was privileged. My brother had the same hair but wore a knitted sailor’s cap pulled down over his ears to protect himself from fond old ladies. It ain’t whut happens to ya but how ya take it.
Four, my biography of Bob Scriver, to whom I was married in the Sixties, has as much stuff in it about me as about him, but I’ve discovered that one way to reveal other people is through one’s own reaction to them, so I think it’s legitimate. (“Bronze Inside and Out, a Biographical Memoir of Bob Scriver,” due out in Spring from the University of Calgary Press.)
Five, I have a special fondness for Tennessee Williams’ plays and used “Alma” from “Summer and Smoke” for acting exercises long, long ago. The fellow who played "John" for me is now a famous actor and director in the Ashland Shakespearean Festival. I just got a Christmas card from him. (Maybe that's not a meme but a brag.)