My name is Becky. Sometime during the Reagan administration, my dad (or some uncle, I’ve still not gotten a straight answer on this) started calling me “Beckaroonis.” By the time I was in college, it just got shortened to Roonis. So here we are. I’m not going to tell you my life story because my memory is really starting to go. Instead, I’ll do this in snippets:
I was born and raised in Conway, South Carolina. You could not pay me $1,000,000 to move back there.
I am a Christ follower, and I believe in representing Him in a spirit of love, encouragement, and optimism. The optimism part does not come naturally for me, but I work on it. I was raised by a military guy, so I cuss. I don’t really have time to worry about whether I’m being exclusive enough about my brand of Christianity. I just struggle and commiserate and cry during certain hymns. It’s kind of me.
I’m a wife to a really tall, sweet, almost annoyingly smart guy. I actually didn’t like him when I first met him (in English class), but I think he’s pretty alright now. He also seems to me the human representation of Eric from “The Little Mermaid,” and that is pretty hot. Plus, he’s a really, amazingly great dad – which is doubly hot.
I have two little boys. I’m not sure what that flaming thing up in the sky there is, because far as I know, the world actually does revolve around them. Just sayin’. They are loud, hilarious, they make strange noises and smells, and the love to sing and dance. We have more fun than should really be legal.
I was born in 1984, which makes me definitely a “millenial.” But if you call me that to my face, I might hurl my pocketbook at you, which I think just makes me charmingly old-fashioned. And a potential felon.
Rather than tell you favorite actors, movies, music, etc., I’ll just say my favorite “characters and/or people,” and these are in no particular order: Idgie Threadgoode, Forrest Gump / Tom Hanks (both of them), Maria Bamford, Jon Stewart, Rhett Butler (though Scarlett has her moments), Trent Reznor, Billy Corgan, Tina Fey, David Sedaris, Johnny Cash, Jim Croche, Blanche DuBois, Diane Keaton, Bette Davis, Winston Churchill, Joan Cusack (she’s kooky done kooky). I like weird. I like strong. I like unpopular.
Speaking of unpopular, did I mention how much I hated high school? Hated it. Haaaaaaaaaated.
My husband and I went on our first date on Sunday, September 4th, 2005. By Monday the 12th, we had decided to get married. On Saturday, June 3rd, 2006, we did.
My grandfather died when my dad was only 14 years old. Decades prior to that, he was in the third wave to land on Omaha Beach the morning of June 6th, 1944. I didn’t get to meet him, but that’s okay. I know without a doubt that he was awesome.
I love to cook. A recipe is something that makes sense (most of the time, anyway) in a world that simply doesn’t. Though honestly, I’m terrible at following recipes.
I believe in the supernatural. The gullah culture of the Lowcountry includes talk about haints, plat-eye, and witch doctors. I’m not sure if all those things are real, but I know I plan to paint the ceiling of my porch haint blue one of these days – cause you just never know. I also know that after the loss of a friend, I sat in my childhood tree house and asked this person where he was. Still, cool night. Strong, sudden, warm breeze. I think that was the night I realized Heaven was real and CLOSE.
I have my grandmother’s chin, hands, and bullshit threshold, my mothers backside, and my dad’s eyes and laugh.
I was almost the victim of an abduction attempt when I was 18 years old. Several guys tried to pull me off my bike into their crappy Chevy Lumina. I later recognized the driver and threatened to cut his nuts off and sink his body in an undisclosed, carefully chosen location – at close range, in the middle of the street. My dad offered to help. So no, I am not the “Keep Calm and Carry On” type, I am the “Hide Your Body and Wash My Hands” type.
I had my head bashed into a brick wall by a bully when I was 13 or 14 years old. This will toughen you up in pretty short order.
I once offered Carrot Top (the comedian / steroid use awareness poster boy) biscotti from the window of a moving car, in front of a Target. He politely declined.
I have run three half marathons and have zero intention of every running further than that again.
No matter what my body does in my lifetime, I will probably never like it more than I did eight months pregnant and overloaded by bliss, anticipation, and cellulite.
I treasure personal space and quiet in a way I didn’t as a kid, but probably should’ve. I’m an introvert living in the body of an outgoing person. This equates to constant internal conflict.
I can smell a bream bed from a mile away.