Ok . . . purely in the interest of blogging on topic for NaBloPoMo, I’m going to admit one of my stranger quirks from my childhood.
When I was three, I called boogers “strangers”. I don’t know why. I actually don’t remember the word “booger” being used in my house. I don’t remember what Mom called boogers. I think she didn’t really refer to them at all, or else she must have referred to them by a more clinical term.
Come to think of it, what is the clinical term for boogers? Is there one?
But for whatever reason, I decided to call them strangers. And after a little while, everyone in my family knew what I meant when I said the word, so I was apparently an effective communicator, even with the wrong word.
All I really remember about it is my mother laughing and imitating a family friend who used to come over and sing, “Strangers in the nose . . .”
I kind of tried to write a whole verse for that song, and I fully own up to the fact that I shouldn’t quit my day job . . .
Strangers in the nose,
Failing at first blow,
It’s still an issue,
The stranger in my nose,
It doesn’t want to leaaavvve . . .
Ah. Yeah. I’m hanging my head in shame.