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Personality Type

What type personality are you? Introvert or extrovert? Right brained /left brained? A, B, C or D? Red, Blue, White or Yellow? 1, 2, 7 or 16?

Personally, I’m a #1/multicolored/right brained/ambivert/cup-smoosher. You heard me right. In addition to being a bossy, overachieving, sensitive, perceptive recluse—I’m also one of those. I found out this tidbit of classifying information by answering one honest, insightful question found in the G-Test (aka Gail-Test)

You’re driving through a parking lot and see a soft drink cup sitting un-attended on the pavement. Do you A) veer to miss it? Or B) swerve to smoosh it?

Your parents may have seen signs of this trait in early childhood—were you a puddle-jumper or stomper?

Recently my husband and I were moseying down the street in his truck when we faced this very personality-defining moment. There by the side of the road was an abandoned soft-drink cup. It was extra-large and filled to the brim with an un-identified brand of soda (certainly not Diet Coke because no respectable DC drinker would leave it unfinished.) I held my breath, anticipating the moment when the tires ran it down flat. SMOOSH!

Imagine my disappointment when he passed on by without so much as a hesitation.

Seriously? I gasped, you didn’t run over it?

Run over it? Why would I do that? He turned with a puzzled look.

But, but… I stammered, how could you not? I was flabbergasted!

I would never run over it, that would be contributing to litter, he said smugly.

I was too disappointed to be impressed with his moral courage and mumbled something about a smooshed cup not being as susceptible to the wind.

Wait, you really would have run over it? He questioned.

Duh… always and forever.

Apparently, this characteristic is genetic and non-recessive. I remember my son driving an antique car in a local parade. He had the good fortune to follow behind some horses who occasionally marked the trail, and not with bread crumbs. Of course, he would position the wheels of the car perfectly, causing some mis-guided people along the parade route to shriek, “Nooooooo!” He would simply grin and wave shouting, I love yooo random citizen! That’s my boy!

I watched my grandson on his dirt bike make a conscious effort to run over every mound of dog poop on the property and marveled. Then I had a vision of my pioneer ancestors crossing the plains behind my husband’s kinfolk.

“Watch out, John Boy!” I imagine his great-great-great-grandmother saying as she steers the covered wagon away from a mud puddle and a steaming pile left by an ox. Then here comes my twentieth cousin, Billy Bob. He sees the target and swerves his handcart. Hearing the satisfying SMOOSH! he grins and lets out a whoop. “I love yooo random citizen!”