Suzanne and I decided to see what our DNA might tell us about ourselves. I have occasionally wondered what fascinating things my DNA could tell me that I don’t already know about my physical self. I can’t imagine what things they might be, but I’m always up for learning more about everything and everybody, including myself sometimes.
Let me be honest here: I am up for learning about ALMOST everything. Take soccer, for example. I am not now—nor have I ever been—one smidgen bit interested in soccer, and I’m positive I won’t ever care to be interested in soccer. I would rather watch more exciting happenings, like the proverbial paint drying—or soil erosion.
Anyhoo… Suzanne and I each spent a few minutes yesterday spitting our DNA into individual tubes. I initially thought of taking TIE O’ THE DAY photos of our spittin’-in-a-test-tube scene. But even I got oogy at the thought of seeing photographic evidence of that. Instead, I’m simply regaling you with the fact that we did it.
Today, stars-and-stripes Bow Tie o’ the Day and I mailed off the tiny tubes o’ spittle for genetic testing. I am certain that my DNA will not reveal the existence of any bigly family secrets about my parentage. I happen to resemble my parents oh-so very remarkably. I am, in fact, somehow the spittin’ (pun intended) image of both of my soon-to-be-scientifically-proven parents, simultaneously. I am certainly hoping my genetic code might reveal something about the sustainability of my Cranky Hanky Panky, or any other mutant organs or systems which possibly inhabit my body. Of course, I will keep y’all updated on the good, the bad, and any ugly the tests say my DNA contains. It’s what I do.