Saturday, February 26, 2011

Tag, I'm It!!!

A while back, a girl (woman, now) who lived up the street from me when we were growing up left a comment on my blog.  It's always cool in a i-hope-i-haven't-written-anything-too-embarrassing sort of way when someone from THE REAL WORLD finds my blog.  I'm still pretty hopeful my Momma doesn't know about this published-for-the-world-to-see-but-somehow-still-sort-of-private journal of mine...I use the eff word here and I try really really hard not to do that in front of my Momma.  Anyhow, I was like "Oh cool!  Stephanie blogs too!", and then I was like, "Oh, crap, I hope I didn't say anything that she'll go tell her Mom about and then her Mom will go say something to my Momma..." and then I realized she has far more interesting things to talk to her Momma about than my boring blog.  (It's not all about you, Natalie.)  It's neat to find a blog of someone you know in THE REAL WORLD, isn't it?  Stephanie and I, we'd said a few hellos to one another via private messages on a local social networking site, but that was years ago, when her babies were still itty bitty babies, and it's not like we took the time to share family photos or to tell each other about our days.  Linking back to her blog, Dirt and Lace, I read about her girls (they're 3 and 4 now, and look so much like Stephanie did when she was a kid.), her husband, her family, her business ventures.  And I also discovered For The Love Of Blogs.  (See the button over there to the right?)  (Oh, and coincidentally, Stephanie's blog is nominated for the March Blog of the Month Award.  She'd probably really like it if you voted for her.)  So, For The Love Of Blogs (we'll call it FTLOB here, it's quicker), it's a shiny happy place where bloggers go to find other bloggers and spread blogging love to all the blogging world.  In other words, as a blogger, they help you find readers.  As a blog-reader, you're introduced to all kinds of new blogs and stories and tales and sads and happys.  It's win/win.

So, I've found some pretty cool new reads thanks to FTLOB, and my most recent favorite, Elephants & Rainboots (I mean, how freakin' cute is that title?), she tagged me in this 7 Facts blog-love-spreading award thingy.  Thank you, thank you, thank you for the bloggy love!

This is the first time I've ever done this, so I'm sure I'll do it wrong and break the whole thing, and I almost didn't do it at all because I'm so afraid of failure but then I remembered:


In for a penny, in for a pound.  

The Rules:
1.  Copy the 7 Facts picture (above - the one with the sunflowers) and paste it in your blog.
2.  Thank the person who tagged you.  Share the bloggy love and link back to their blog.
3.  Share 7 Facts about yourself.  (I guess that's where the title comes from?)
4.  Pass the love to 15 other bloggers.

I feel like the fat kid in dance class.  Again.  You're not all laughing at me, are you?  If I'm doing it wrong, you'll tell me, right?  Okay, here are seven things about me that I'm pretty sure I've never talked about before here in this space:

1.  I really was the fat kid in dance class.  Stacy and I took dance lessons when we were little - I was maybe 7, 8?  Who can remember?  I was awkward, that's all I know...but that really could describe almost any period in my life.  Anyhow, for a year, once or twice a week, Momma would drive me up the road to the dance academy in the strip mall with the 6 foot gold-colored plastic trophies in the windows, where a pretty 30-something blonde lady tried to teach me and 8 other girls tap, jazz, and ballet for an hour; where I would pretend I hadn't spend most of my days watching the Smurfs and He-Man and She-Ra instead of playing jump-rope or propelling myself across the monkey bars.  All (in my not-reliable memory) of the other girls were tall and lithe and graceful and already looked like superstars in their leotards and sheer pink gauzy skirts.  I was round and soft and my leotard bunched up in my butt crack and my tap shoes rubbed blisters on my heels.  At the end of the year, shortly before my little brother was born (so I was 8 and 9 during my lessons), there was a recital.  My costume was red satin, with silver sequins glittering on the spaghetti straps and the 6" wide swatch down the front of the leotard; there were two skirts, (because of course, costume changes are awesome!) one with a thin band of silver sequins supporting a 4" long skirt of red fringe, and the other was an 8" skirt of fire and glare - it was nothing but sequins.  The whole thing had a flapper-ish feel to it.  We were required to wear pancake makeup - I remember my Momma, big and pregnant, working on making sure the rouge was bright enough on my cheeks, that the bright red lipstick didn't smear.  I'll never understand the blue eyeshadow thing, but we had to have that, too.  My dance shoes - the ones for tap and ballet - were spray-painted silver.  I loved every minute of it - the dressing up and wearing make-up part, not necessarily the learning part - but looking back it was expensive for Momma and Daddy.  They didn't put up any fuss when I decided I didn't want to go back.  To this day, I'm a lousy dancer.  

2.  I like popping pimples.  It's gross, I know, but I can't help it.  I don't want to watch videos of other people doing it, because that sorta makes my stomach do flip flops, but I kinda like popping pimples in real life.  Jimi doesn't let me talk about it; he won't let me pop his, either.  He says it's gross.  I know he's right, but I can't help it.  

3.  I chipped my tooth last night.  On Finn's dog bone.  It's a pretty innocuous story, really.  Finn had the bone, I was holding it for him, I leaned forward to kiss his nose, he let go of the bone and it smacked me in the teeth.  It hurt.  Fortunately, I don't think the damage is serious.  

4.  When I was 19, I got a tramp stamp and had my belly button pierced.  I was dumber then, and thinner.  The piercing only lasted a year or two; the tattoo is still there, but I never see it, so whatever.

5.  I love Sudoku puzzles.  I'm pretty good at them, too.  

6.  I once decided to quit a job because they changed my schedule at the last minute and it was going to cause me to miss the season finale of Friends.  No, really - it was an office job, where i worked from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. four days a week.  At 6 that fateful Thursday night, they told me they needed me to stay till 8, and that my schedule had changed to 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Tuesday through Friday effective immediately.  I thought about it for a minute, realized my show would be over 15 minutes before I got home (this was in the days before DVRs and, then I packed up my desk and went home and watched my show.  I sent an email the next morning saying I wouldn't be returning to work, but I would be in to pick up my final paycheck the following week.  They tried to make me do an exit interview, but I refused, and I knew they couldn't deny me my final check, so I avoided giving them a last opportunity to berate me.  
Okay, I didn't quit just to watch Friends - the schedule change was just the final straw in a long history of abuse and mistreatment I suffered at the hands of the owner of that company - one that specialized in Human Resources, not even joking.  For six months before I quit, I drank Alka Seltzer every day, four and five times a day, in an effort to combat the horrible heartburn I felt from the time I woke up until I was finally home for the evening.  The morning I sent that email?  No heartburn.  It was like a miracle.  No guilt here.  

7.  I'm a pop culture ignoramous.  On the rare occasion that I watch a movie all the way through, it's likely that I won't remember much about it a week later.  I don't know actors names and I don't recognize them when they're in good costumes.  I don't know who's been on SNL or what happened on Lost or Dexter.  I don't know what music is new or good (I listen to NPR in the car).  I have no guilt about any of this.  

Enough about me.  (That was hard.)  These 15 blogs are ones I enjoy, and I think you should give them a look-see, too:

Now I have to go post links to this post on their blogs so they'll know I've tagged them.  I hope they don't laugh at me. Tag, friends, you're it!  C'mon, play along, go join up at FTLOB, etc. and so on.  

Oh, and Happy Saturday!


  1. This should be interesting and fun! Too bad I don't know fifteen blogs to tag...

  2. I decided not to continue the sharing. Not because it isn't awesome, but because I really don't read that many blogs. I DID, however, give you a shout out in my latest entry at

  3. I was totally there with you on the fat kid in dance class thing. It's too bad we weren't able to be in the same least that would've spared one of us some humiliation! Of course, I was always the fat kid, and it wasn't just in dance class. Tall, fat and awkward don't exactly go hand-in-hand with dancing, as I quickly learned. But hey, at least your costume for the recital was cute...mine was white with green sequins and a freakin' tutu...I looked like a beach umbrella or something. Anyways, at least I'm not the only one who has awful memories of ballet class...

  4. All right, I'm in. I'm working on it! I don't know if I know 15 bloggers though! Wish me luck!

  5. Yay! I will do this when I get home from work. P.S. I was the fat kid in dance class too!


Please don't make me cry.


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