That Explains a Lot

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^^ The only photo we’ve ever taken all together. ^^

Yesterday, I spent the entire day cleaning out everything I’ve ever owned. Books, art portfolios, recital photos, dishes, more books — it was an honest moment of taking in my past and deciding what I wanted to keep and what deserved a new and better home. A fresh start to 2016, void of unnecessary stress and armloads of old gymnastic ribbons.

(Don’t get excited, they were just participation ribbons. I trip over my shoes, you think I won a ribbon for an athletic event?)

So after hours of being reminded of all the things that make me Me, I thought it best to begin recording them here just so my NYC self doesn’t forget.

That Explains A Lot: The Carly Christine Edition

“Nancy Drew” and doll house mysteries. 

Since I can remember, I’ve always been obsessed with mysteries. The love ran deep as a kid, figuring into my favorite books (“Nancy Drew” and “The Mystery of the Pirate Ghost”) and childhood games. Sure, other girls might have their Barbies simply go to the store and make dinner, but not me. Oh no, Barbie and her family had crimes to solve! Villains to put behind bars! Soon “Clue” and “Murder By Death” became my two favorite movies as I’d watch them on repeat until I could recite every line perfectly. Miss White was my favorite, obviously.

Now, I’m frequently torn between “Psych,” “Broadchurch,” “Sherlock,” “Veronica Mars,” “Luther,” and don’t even get me started on “Miss Fisher’s Mysteries.” That show is my jammmmm. These detectives remind me to be bold, adventurous, smart, and take a proactive approach to my life. While detective Carly LeClue is my 157th back up plan, I do try to keep my nerdy mystery love alive by testing my observational skills in public A lot of “How many hats are on the train” and “What is this person’s story?” That sort of thing. You know, just common stuff for a 25-year-old lady.

Tommy.

There is a picture of Tommy – a random guy my family met once at a wedding — that we like to hide around our house. We have no idea his last name, where he lives, or how he became the star of our hide and seek game, but ten years after that wedding, Tommy lives on. There are rules of course, Tommy can’t be hidden in any bedrooms (too creepy) and the person who finds him is responsible for hiding him again. So thank you Tommy, for not only taking that unflattering, candid picture, but for never contacting us so we’d have to stop our game.

***

Mel Brooks is my hero.

I first saw “Robin Hood Men in Tights” when I was 8. My parents assumed the humor would go right over my tiny head, and while most of it did, the confusion about chastity belts did not. Hence, Mel Brooks’ creation lead to my first sex talk. Over the years, Mel has become a family staple as my dad and I quote “Blazing Saddles” and “Young Frankenstein” in our daily conversations. It’s a tough choice but order of favorites: “Young Frankenstein” (WHAT KNOCKERS!), “Robin Hood Men in Tights,” and “Blazing Saddles” — each holding such a unique beauty. I didn’t actually realize these movies weren’t popular among my classmates until high school, and by then I was so enamored and had already memorized all the “Robin Hood Men in Tights” songs that I didn’t care. It was the bond between my dad and I, and I loved it. Growing up quoting Doc Holiday in “Tombstone” and Mongo from “Blazing Saddles” seemed to come much easier than the eight years of Spanish I attempted, leaving the score: Foreign languages, 0. Mel Brooks, 1.

Fish gutting.

If you’ve ever tried to plan a dinner with me, you’ve quickly learned I don’t eat seafood. I just can’t stand the taste and yes, before you say anything, I have tried every kind. Stop insisting I try “the right kind.” It’s not happening because it doesn’t exist. But, despite hating the taste of seafood, I love fishing and even more, getting to gut the fish we’re forced to keep. My dad first taught me when I was seven, showing me all the organs and explaining their functions inside the fish. It was both my first hands-on anatomy lesson and first step towards my EMT certification. Honestly, is there anything more interesting in how the heart functions? The different lobes of the brain? The process of digestion? How to split a broken femur that’s sticking through the skin? I vote no.

Damn you “Hocus Pocus.”

Short story to wrap us up. When I was little, I watched “Hocus Pocus” alone. I was a scaredy cat as a kid, that should be said up front. But “Hocus Pocus” imposed its own kind of terror and for two years — TWO YEARS! — I tried to teach myself how to sleep with one eye open so the witches wouldn’t kidnap me. That’s a real, true story.

 

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