Interview someone — a friend, another blogger, your mother, the mailman — and write a post based on their responses.
Me: Is it an animal?
Lily: No.
Me: Is it food?
Lily: No.
Me: Is it an object?
Lily: Yes.
Me: Can you ride it?
Lily: giggles No!
And on and on this line of questioning went until one of two things happened. Either time ran out or I guessed correctly. We were, of course, playing the game Hedbandz. Where we wear a headband holding a card that we can’t see and then we have until a sand timer runs out to guess what is on the card based on the answers to our questions.
That’s the closest thing I have to an interview right now…questions I asked my 7-year old niece while playing a game. And I’m good with that. Yesterday was a delightful day with my nieces. We went to a craft store where I bought crochet supplies and other fun toys for them. I delighted in being the aunt who buys them whatever they want. And to be fair, they didn’t ask for anything. They looked at things and if they lingered on something for a while, I asked if they wanted it. Many times they were honest and said no, but a few times they nodded and into the basket it went. Since I don’t get time like this with them very often, I was happy to spoil them.
I guess I could say I also interviewed them at the shady gas station we stopped at on our way to lunch after the craft store because Lily really couldn’t wait to get to the restaurant to use the bathroom. The first one I found had the bathrooms on the outside and apparently the inside was gross. Clean enough to use the toilet, but they had to dodge a spider on the wall and according to Luci, the sink had mold in it. So my interview included questions like: Did you wash your hands? Did you go at all? So you did get to pee right? Do I need to stop somewhere else?
We had lunch at Portillo’s, and I had my first taste of a Chicago staple…the Italian beef. Side bar—it was delicious! Though I feel cheated that I asked (and paid for) mozzarella and they didn’t put it on there. I didn’t realize they forgot it until I was finished with it. That’s when I thought, wasn’t there supposed to be cheese on this? I have encountered differing opinions on the cheese. Someone on Threads said cheese does not belong on an Italian beef so it was good that they forgot it. My brother-in-law, on the other hand, said the cheese makes the sandwich. Obviously I will have to come back and try it again with the cheese to determine who is right. My sister, aka my unofficial social media manager, insisted that I have my nieces take a picture of me taking my first bite. You know, because people on social media told me that I needed to try it. So I need to reward them with photos of me trying it. I didn’t post my first bite picture on Threads, but I have a smaller audience here, so without further adieu, here is my unglamorous first bite of an Italian beef:
And this is what it looked like before I began shoveling it in my mouth:
The interview-like questions continued after that, while we waited for my sister to get off of work so we could take her home since we had her car. I’ll spare you the full interview in the car, but a sampling of questions that I asked the girls included: Did someone fart? Luci, does Lily ever get on your nerves? Lily, does Luci ever get on your nerves? Luci, did you fart again?! What are you doing back there?! Needless to say, the sugar high that Lily got from her milkshake made the 15 minutes we waited in the car a laugh riot. There were ear-piercing squeals of laughter. I was given a new name because they kept calling me by their other aunt’s name—to be fair, they see her much more often than me. The “interview” concluded when my sister started walking to the car and I told them to “act normal, your mom’s coming”.
I’m sure Barbara Walters never had an interview like the ones I had with my nieces today. That’s o.k. Her interviews were way too serious anyway. I’ll take the ones I had with two little girls over hers any day.
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