1. I’ve been wondering about hickies. Maybe hickies are only a social make-out thing from my generation. Maybe no one under 50 or 40 even knows what a hickey is. Dictionary.com defines a hickey as “a reddish mark left on the skin by a passionate kiss.” In school, if we saw anybody wearing a turtleneck shirt, we knew they were hiding the evidence, and they were immediately more popular than pre-turtleneck, because if they had a hickey, they must be a real party-animal. (We never considered that the turtleneck was just what their mom picked out for them to wear.) Are hickies still alive and well in this generation or has it been discovered they cause some dread disease or social anarchy? Do you have any hickey stories you’d care to share?
2. I love my flannel sheets. I crawl into bed on these cold nights and they are like a warm little cocoon keeping me all comfy and cozy. They even look warm and welcoming with their plaids and mooses and pine trees. What do you prefer in sheets? Flannel, silk, cotton? Is thread count important?
3. We live life really fast these days and we’re always busy, rushing, doing, scurrying, planning. When you finally have time to relax and to de-fuse, what is your downtime of choice? What de-stresses you? What rejuvenates you? How do you cope to do it all over again tomorrow?
4. Simple question: Can you sew on a button? Do you have needle and thread?
5. A true “citizen of Wausau” type question. Community is a great thing. Wausau, Weston, Rothschild, etc. all make up our community, and we participate in things that work towards the bonding of that community feeling of all being in this together. That’s a great thing. But my question is, on a smaller, closer, more personal scale, do you know the names of your next door neighbors right there on your street? Do you talk to them? Are you friends or at least wave if you’re both outside at the same time? Do you interact?
6. Are you scared of peanut butter now? What’s the next food item that will be tainted? If it’s chocolate, I’m eating it anyway.
