Although I feel like I am becoming the Blog Where Blog Awards Go To Die, I am always thrilled and honored when I get one. I just don’t move very fast on them, and I don’t really follow the rules all the time. So I’m trying to get “caught up” with all the lovely awards that you wonderful people have been giving me lately. Today I’m honored to thank BlueViolet for the Honest Scrap Award.
I’ve seen this award around and I like it because part of the rules are that you need to list at least 10 honest things about yourself, and I’ve always enjoyed reading these posts. So here are my 10 honest things, and at the end I’m going to give this award to one of my favorite bloggers out there — and one of the most honest, and funniest, and cutest and nicest.
10 Honest Things About Me
- I am a quitter. I quit about 95% of the things I start. Diets, craft projects, exercise programs — you name it, I’ve probably quit it. No amount of money invested in something will keep me from quitting it (much to my husband’s chagrin.) When the Little One was about 2, I decided I would learn how to sew and make all his clothes, his Halloween costumes, curtains for the house, pillowcases. Never you mind that I had never used a sewing machine in my life and the only hand sewing I’ve ever done (in Girl Scouts to earn my totally undeserved sewing badge) ended in a skirt that fell apart upon first wearing. I knew I could do it … I would do it. (I think I was totally into Project Runway at the time.) My husband — knowing my track record at these type of things — limited me to a relatively cheap Singer sewing machine. My first project was a pillowcase for the Little One. Perhaps taking an hour to thread the machine should have been my first clue that perhaps I was not cut out for sewing. Perhaps the jagged lines and unevenness of the material should have been another clue. But I persevered and made two pillowcases — sure they don’t actually fit a standard size pillow. And sure if you look closely you’ll find huge knots of thread where stuff went wrong. And sure the stitching looks like someone taking evasive maneuvers, but I had done it. My second project was a soft book for the Little One. I got one of those kits at Jo-Ann Fabrics that gave you all the materials and instructions. I thought I would be brilliant now. The book was horrific — honestly, a monkey probably could have sewed it better than me. And then, you guessed it. I quit sewing. Just like my son’s scrapbook stops at 4 months old. (Did I mention he is 4 now?) And his baby book stops pretty much after his birth. Oh, I could go on and on but I think you get the point. I quit … a lot.
- I am a nerd.I’ve pretty much always been a nerd — my whole entire life. I’ve never been fashionable (I wore bright red overalls in high school. As late as college I wore bright yellow high-top sneakers. Not cool ones — nerdy ones you wouldn’t be caught dead in). I’ve never been pretty (I have the photos to prove it. In fact, one of my future Photo Story Friday posts is going to be entitled “Evolution of a Nerd.”) I’ve always loved nerdy things like books and playing games. I’ve never been athletic. I’ve never been part of the popular crowd. I’ve never had tons of boyfriends. I was on the Yearbook staff in high school (one of the people who photograph the non-nerds who are featured in the yearbook). But on the plus-side of nerdom, I was always pretty smart (except for math and science but even with those I muddled through). And you know what, I love being a nerd. I think nerds are happier than popular people because we don’t have as much pressure on us to fit in. And I was never a nerd who was picked on either.
- I’m terrible at math.I think 50% of the problem was my second grade teacher, 50% of the problem is my parents, and the remaining 50% of the problem is myself. (Did you get the joke there. Haha! Even I got that joke.) But seriously, I have a blank spot in my brain where basic addition and subtraction should be. My mom says my second grade teacher just gave me good grades even though my math papers were always wrong. I guess I just didn’t get it then, but no one ever did anything about it and they stop teaching you the basics after awhile and I somehow muddled through life without really knowing basic math. My parents never did anything about it (although they seemed to be aware), and I have never really taken steps to do anything about it either. My husband (who seems to have a calculator in his head) was aghast when he realized how bad it was. I get by using my fingers to count on. Seriously, it is that bad. If you ask me “How much is 8 + 5″ absolutely nothing comes into my head. Nothing at all. I have no idea. I have to count it out on my fingers. That is really sad, isn’t it?
- I almost never eat 3 to 5 servings of fruit and vegetables a day.I always hate looking at the food pyramid because it just reminds me that I never eat near enough fruits and vegetables. Part of the problem is that I tend to buy stuff, put it in the crisper drawers, and then forget that I have it until the rotten stench hits me. Plus fruit rots pretty quick, and I hate having to go to the grocery store to constantly get fresh fruit. If someone would just supply and prepare my fruit for me, I would totally eat it. I just don’t expend enough energy to procure it for myself. And I like vegetables but I don’t like taking the time to cook them in interesting ways. I just buy those SteamFresh bags and eat them plain. Not something I’m craving most days. Sometimes I cheat and drink little cans of V8 but then I quit (remember #1). If I would just flip-flop my chocolate consumption with my fruit and vegetable consumption, I would be super healthy and definitely meet my food pyramid requirements.
- I always took one fun course each semester of college. I don’t know how much my parents really know about this…thank goodness they don’t read my blog or I might owe them some tuition money. Each semester of college, I registered for one fun course that was just for me. One time is was Billiards. (My dad did see that one and threw a fit.) And I took three semesters of the History of Rock and Roll, which was a brilliant class. One final project was to defend your choice of who was the better rock band — the Beatles or the Stones. (I went with the Beatles and I’ll stand by that to this day). Another assignment was to bring in music that you felt was the wave of the future. (I failed miserably with that one — I brought in the Talking Heads.) This policy finally caught up with me my senior year when I took a student-taught class called “Lavender Culture,” which ended up causing me to have to take one more 100-level philosophy course during the summer after graduation because they wouldn’t count the student-taught class to fulfill my basic requirements. I guess my “Lesbian Nun” paper wasn’t good enough. This didn’t sit well with my parents AT ALL. Never mind that I graduated summa cum laude (that is top 2% people!) and was Phi Beta Kappa (something worthless that I only throw around when I want to show how brilliant I am). All they saw was that I had to take one more college course to officially graduate. Fortunately, the minions at the college let me participate in commencement since it was a little technicality.
- I can be a nag. If I really want to do something or know something, I will nag, nag, nag about it. This can be really really annoying to family members and friends — but it can lead to exciting adventures too. When I was a child, my dad brought home this letter describing a fabulous mystery location where he could find work. (He was a physician, and this was a recruiting letter. We were living in New Jersey at the time.) Well, I really wanted to know where this place was. I kept nagging and nagging him about it. Finally, he gave in and called the recruiting place to get me off his back. The lady said the location was Fargo, North Dakota. My dad said that didn’t interest him — there was only one place out West where he would even consider moving — Montana. (He had taken a trip there when he was younger and fell in love with it and always had a dream to move there.) The lady paused and then got really weird. She told my dad she had just moments before gotten information that they were recruiting for his speciality in Great Falls, Montana. A few months later, we packed up our entire family and moved to Montana, where my parents live to this day. My dad told me he would never yell at me for nagging again.
- I’m a bit lax in my personal grooming. Now I’m not saying I don’t shower or all that, but I am extremely low-maintenance when it comes to anything other than the basic necessities. I don’t blow dry my hair. (Hell, I don’t really even style it — that is why I get really short haircuts.) I don’t wear make-up. I don’t get manicures or pedicures. I don’t color the gray out of my hair. About the only thing I do is wax off the horrible horrible mustache and chin hairs that haunt me. (Damn my Slavic heritage!)
- I’m very gullible. I am the type of person who mocks infomercials but then gets sucked into wanting the item they are selling. I am the type of person who is totally ready to buy a timeshare whenever we participate in those presentations for a free dinner or something. (My husband just won’t do it anymore — no matter how good the offer — because I am so easily swayed.) I am easily fooled. (I had no clue about my wedding shower. And my husband was able to surprise me with a visit from my mom that had been planned for months and I never even suspected.) I will buy candy bars from kids in airports who are “raising money for scholarships” but that my husband says are “ripping me off with overpriced candy bars they probably stole.” But perhaps the most gullible I’ve ever been was during a childhood camping trip with our neighbors where I spent about 30 minutes tramping around in the dark woods with a paper bag on a snipe hunt. (Do you know about snipe hunts?) I’ve never seen my parents and neighbors laugh so hard in their life. And to this day, I WILL SWEAR THAT SOMETHING RAN INTO MY BAG!
- I’ve always been “one of the guys.” This may be related to the nerdiness and lack of personal grooming, but I’ve always been able to fit in with the guys. At one place of work (in my 30s no less), I hung out with a pack of 20-something guys who all called me “Dude.” We would talk about rap music, hip-hop culture and (wait for it) dating girls (not me dating girls but they would talk about girls as if I wasn’t one of them. Interesting insight were gained.) Guys almost never view me a “girlfriend” material; they view me as another guy. This has been both a blessing and curse, depending on my mood and the guy.
- I am a terrible cook. Seriously, if I invite you over for dinner, you should probably decline or ask if I will be catering it from Boston Market or something. I am a “read it and kind of follow the directions” type cook. I’m a “well, I don’t have THAT ingredient so I’ll just skip it” type of cook. I don’t really know how to season food. I don’t have a signature recipe. Bottom line is, I don’t really enjoy cooking so I don’t do it well. My poor son — he is someday going realize how good food can taste and he’ll wonder what was wrong with me.
So enough about me already (hope I didn’t bore you to tears). I’m passing this award on to one of my most favorite bloggers — Sera at Laughing Through the Chaos. Not only have I decided that we were separated-at-birth sisters (though I am almost twice her age — if I’m doing my math right which I’m probably not), but her blog is just all about honesty. I mean, she wrote about fishing out her baby’s poop from the bathtub! And she writes with such honesty about the elderly people who torture her at church — Granny Panties, Chicken Bones and Spectacles. She is just so real and warm and funny. I love her, and I know you will too! Please go give her some love! She deserves it — especially because her lovely baby girl is torturing her right now (teething and all that). And did I mention she is a social worker? I mean how great can one girl be? You rock, Sera! This award is all yours — you don’t have to share it with 7 other bloggers or anything!