1. Thank and link to the person(s) who nominated you.
2. Share seven random facts about yourself.
3. Pass the award along to five blogging buddies.
4. Contact those buddies to congratulate them.
I am in turn passing this award along to:
So now that you're waiting with bated breath, here are the SEVEN RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME.
1. I do not get sick. Well, occasionally (like this week) I might come down with something. But I’m fairly certain I could stroll through the typhoid and cholera wards of the world and never pick up a single bug. I’d survive a leper colony. I’ve had patients with active TB hocker right in my face and I still test negative. Co-workers may be be dropping like flies all around me, yet I remain unscathed. I don’t even catch colds. My resistance to germs is amazing, and it can't be because of the garlic cloves I carry around in my bra, because...
2. I rarely wear one. Yes, I realize I’m old. Yes, I realize this is no longer the 1960s. Yes, of course they’re no longer bright and perky and able to hold their own in an unexpected gale. But I. Do. Not. Like. Bras. In fact, I often wear layers to work to conceal the evidence. I mean, it'd not like I just let the old girls flop all over the place; I do have some sense of decorum, after all. And I do make exceptions. Regardless, Stacy and Clinton would never approve.
3. I do not carry grudges. Lucky for you, right? Because if you tick me off in April, chances are by June I won’t even remember the episode. The two exceptions to this are:
a. if you mess with my kids, or
b. if I desperately, desperately need a non-monetary favor from you, and it’s a favor I’ll gladly return a thousand-fold, and it doesn't occur to me that you’ll turn me down, and then your reason for blowing me off is, well, effen lame and SELFISH...then I might not feel too kindly toward you for a while. Years, even.
4. I don’t play games on the computer or on the TV because I know I'll become addicted. I don’t even test-drive them, so to speak. I had Tetris on an old WP once and that was all I did from dawn to dusk for, like, one year. It’s hard enough for me to stay away from message boards when I’m supposed to be writing.
5. I haven’t had a cigarette since Mother’s Day.
6. I don’t understand the rules of the English language. Seriously--I am such a poseur!!! I write, right? And I do it fairly well. I can string together a sentence that’s both grammatically and stylistically correct—but I can’t tell you why it’s correct. I can’t recite the rules. I can't even recite the list of prepositions I had to memorize in third grade. I couldn’t diagram a single sentence of this post if you bribed me with a crate of White Chocolate Lindor Truffles. It’s like, I can’t say for sure what’s wrong with that dress, because it not the hem length, or the cut, or the color, or the style; it's not even your figure. All I know is, that dress SUCKS on you. That’s how I tell if a sentence is wrong: it just doesn't work. You'll have to trust me that it sucks.
7. I am old enough now to sense my own mortality. I can't decide if that’s disturbing or liberating.