Now that I've weirded you out a bit, it's time to go a little further. We'll move on to the topic of my mother, before her maternal years.

Throughout her childhood, my mother was infinitely weirder than I was. Here are some examples she's familiarized me with:

Example #1: My mother was infatuated with the pouty-breathy-gaping-mouth look that many actresses possess. She thought standing around with her mouth gaping open was sexy. Unfortunately, she couldn't do it right. Instead of parting her lips slightly and bulging the apples of her cheeks, she stood with her jaw inches open. Day after day after day. Until, one fine day during spring, an insect flew into her gaping mouth. Needless to say, she no longer thought the look was sexy. She never did it again.

Example #2: My mother wanted a wheelchair when she was young. To her, gliding along in a silver chariot, with hands being used in place of feet was dreamlike. She never did, and hopefully never will, get to use one.

Example #3: Towards the middle of my mother's childhood, a favorite teacher of hers was injured. That teacher broke her right arm, her dominant arm, and was unable to write for weeks. This terrified my mother; she was so frightened that she too would break her dominant arm and be left without a way to write, that she trained herself to use her recessive hand. To this day, she's ambidextrous and has never broken a limb.

What a weird family.