A. I don’t have one, perhaps because I grew up speaking two languages. Idioms and proverbs don’t tend to translate well. It was years before I learned that one doesn’t steal a parade, but rather rains on it.
A. I was recently told I have aristocratic ankles, but I’m not quite sure I know what that means.
A. There’s this German children’s book called the Der Struwwelpeter, which is sort of a twisted version of a morality tale. In one of the stories, a mother warns her son not to suck his thumb and, when he disobeys one night, an evil tailor referred to as “the great, long, red-legg’d scissor-man” comes into his home and chops his thumbs off with giant scissors. Guess who was a thumb sucker when she was a little girl? Still, having long since recuperated from the terror of this story, I find the scissor-man one of the most creative and enigmatic of fictional villains. Who was his boss? I still find myself wondering sometimes.
A. Not picking ‘artist’ as my profession on job day in kindergarten; I panicked and went with cowgirl.
A. This changes almost daily, and I listen to a lot of music. At the moment, though: Sunny Road (Emiliana Torrini), La Legierezza (Franz Liszt), Everyday (Rogue Wave), Better (Regina Spektor), 99 Luftballons (Nena), rotating songs by The Pixies