I won this lovely gift from Dr. John because while I rarely have anything witty to say, I comment anyway. Notice the butterflies? Do you see how speaking up can be profitable?
A while back, Jadzia tagged me with the eight things list, so here, finally, are eight more slightly odd things about me.
1. I can’t count paper money unless all of the bills are facing the same way and all of the corners are flat.
2. I must pick up every coin I see on the ground and say, “Thank you.”
3. I count to distract my mind. I count to help me fall asleep or when I have nothing to read or if I’m having obsessive thoughts.
4. I sigh. A lot. Loudly.
5. I wear my wedding ring on my right hand. It likes living there.
6. I like Bombay Sapphire Gin with Vintage Tonic and Lime (expensive gin and cheap tonic.) Yum.
7. I like Vanilla not Chocolate (please don’t die from heart failure.)
8. I like eating several appetizers for dinner.
I have six, yes, count them, six other blogs. If you get bored, check them out there to the right. I note the date of the last entry so you can always be up-to-date on the important stuff.
There will be another blog starting in October. It will be a Book Reading Group blog. Look for it soon. That will make a total of eight blogs. I would promise to stop there, but I’d be lying.
There are still prizes open at the Scavenger Hunt blog. The first game does not end until September 30th.
I have added a new entry to Devine Death – An Ongoing Novel (which hasn’t gone on for over a year.) I am going to try to finish it before the NaNoWriMo 2007 starts on November 1st.
Jackie from Jackie’s Garden has given me the Rockin’ Girl Blogger award. This was so unexpected that I have no acceptance speech prepared. I can’t pick just five people for this award. All of the “girls” on my blogroll are Rockin’ Girl Bloggers. Check them out if you haven’t already. They are all great for various reasons. If you are listed there, consider yourself awarded.
This be Dread Pirate Kidd. “Like the famous Dread Pirate Roberts, you have a keen head for how to make a profit. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!” What is your prirate name?
Arr! Dis be me pirate nife, dat me be carry where ever me be goin'. Arr!
De last times I be a goin’ to NYC when my aunt from Austria be visitin’, I done forget about de knife. I be priratin’ me aunt to sight the Empire State Building. De dastardly Queen’s men yanked me aside for having a weapon in me scabbard. Dat little incident be good for a few har hars throughout da day.
Me fruit of me loins won me dis knife at the PA RenFaire a couple of years ago. It be makin’ me feel dangerous, especially when I be usin’ it to decapitate flowers. Arr!
The forest floor, littered with stones and rocks, twigs and branches, leaves and bark, in varying shades of brown and gray, blushed with tints of blue, purple and pink, crunched under foot. A touch of mossy green outlined areas of interest. The path was well-defined with use. Traversed by humans and animals alike, years of walking and trotting created a smooth surface for future travelers and a map to the best spots in the woods.
Along each side of the path, bright green fern and tufted grasses created a hedge outlining the path and a barrier between the walkway and the trees beyond.
Only the trunks nearest the path were distinguishable. Past the first few trees the forest became dark and flat, hinting at the deep distance in which the trees lived.
The woods spoke in whispers, gossiping about travelers that passed through their domain. They laughed at the naiveté of beings that only lived a few short years.
Today, my daughter, variously known as Snoogs, Honey Bunches of Oats and Tigs, turns 21.
My daughter saved my life. Because of her, I gave up my carefree and erratic ways to help us both grow up. While I tried hard to do my best, I wasn’t perfect and I made many mistakes, but she rewarded me by becoming a wonderful person. She considers me her best friend (you can’t beat that.)
She goes through life full steam ahead. She is a spitfire of a girl; all of about five four, with big brown eyes and brown hair the color of mink. When I first looked into her eyes, I dubbed Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison her song.
Shortly after she was born, people told me that I looked too good to have just given birth; I looked so happy. I consider her my greatest creation.
In her first twenty-one years, she has avoided the major pitfalls of smoking, drugs, alcohol and promiscuous sex. She has a good, fulltime job and a meaningful, long-term relationship. She is a firefighter, an EMT and has taken up reading (finally.) She likes RenFaires, let’s me make her costumes and corsets, plays with swords, has a belly button ring but no tattoos and she has about fifty big hoodies. She’s good with her money, doesn’t give up easily, hates injustice and cares for the people around her. She is smart, fun, loves to do things and keeps me in touch with the wider world.
Because I remember, I despair. Because I remember, I have the duty to reject despair. – Elie Wiesel
Unless we remember we can not understand. – Edward Forster.
Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your love and tenderness sealed up until your friends are dead. Fill their lives with sweetness, speak cheering words while their ears can hear, and while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier by them. – Williams Childs
I have neatened up a bit around here; made things simpler (I think.)
I re-did my Nectar list (the blog's I visit.) I listed everyone by the way they are named when commenting. If you don't like the way you are listed or if you do not want to be listed, please let me know. If I missed you or if you visit here without commenting (grabs heart in serve [severe] pain) let me know that, too.
When I walk, I see feathers lying all over the ground, but no dead birds. Do you think bald birds live in my neighborhood?
Astronauts, astronaut stalkers (astronauts who stalk) and old bikers have it made. They get to wear adult diapers and pee whenever they want. Can you imagine the shear joy of just letting go at the supermarket?
When I empty the dishwasher I want to drop the plates. When I go to put a jug of milk back in the refrigerator, I want to let it fall to the floor. Do you ever feel like doing that?
I found a dollar bill on the ground when I took my morning walk. Does this mean “The Secret” really works?
No matter what kind of bra I wear or how I adjust the straps, the left side always slips off of my shoulder. Does this make me a hunchback?
People who hold conversations on their cell phones in stores are rude and no one says anything to them. Could I get away with holding my hand up to my ear and talking to myself loudly?
I think we should change our court system. If you commit a crime, you are guilty, regardless of who you are or the circumstances. Only the sentencing should involve mitigation. If you admit to killing someone, how can you be not guilty?
I know it is not Thursday, but I like all of those “th’s” in the title. Have you got a problem with that?