Sunshine Blogger Award

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My All-time FAVORITE sunshine shot

I’ve an award!

My favorite demon-runner nominated me for this prestigious award, and I’ve had a great time visiting her little slice of the interewebz.  Go have a read, I promise it will be worth it!  Outrunning My Demons

As for the Sunshine Blogger Award?  Yea, it’s one of those bouncing blog posts that cycle through the ‘net, full of questions to be answered and more to be asked.   The ‘rules’ are simple, if one wishes to follow them:

Here are the rules for being nominated…

  • Thank the blogger that nominated you in the post and link back to their blog
  • Answer the 11 questions the blogger asked you
  • Nominate 8-11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions
  • List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award Logo on your post and/or in your blog

Usually, I take a browse through the questions, and if something pokes the goofy muse, we dutifully apply fingers to keyboard.  So, congrats, (not)Alissa…you woke the sleepy one, who quickly downed an entire pot of coffee and started digging through movie posters in search of answers, because after all that caffeine, she was too twitchy to type properly.

I was asked…

1. What is your favorite topic to blog about?
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Anything and everything I come into contact with is potential blog-fodder…so I write about life…all life, not just the alien kind, although I’m certain there are certain celebrities who’ve forged their birth certificates to more closely resemble humans…

 

 

 

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2. Do you prefer salty or sweet?
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Wave crispy, salty, starchy snacks in my face, and I fold like an origami sculpture.  I have no defense against the humble potato.

 

 

 

 

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3. Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert?
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Don’t ask me about the weather, the traffic, the news or politics, and I won’t have to pretend I didn’t hear your opening salvo into that dread social contrivance called small talk.  Seriously, I’d rather endure non-anesthetized invasive surgery while listening to Beethoven’s 9th symphony being whistled off key.

 

 

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4. Where is your number one place you would like to visit?
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I have to give co-thanks to Steve Martin and my 4th grade teacher, with an additional nod to the Egyptian National Museum for allowing King Tut to get out of his dusty tomb/exhibit and travel the world, for my absolute OBSESSION with all things ancient Egyptian…so if anyone out there is willing to spring for tickets/lodging/meals/passport documentation/ immunizations any some discretionary spending funds…I’ll be the first on the first plane heading out there.  I’ve got the extra vacation time, because I NEVER GO ANYWHERE.

 

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5. Where is the most beautiful place you have ever traveled to?
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I say again:  I NEVER GO ANYWHERE.  My last ‘adventure’ was the funeral in February, travel time >2 hours.  I simply don’t travel well.

Been to some pretty locations in this state, however.  The Dells (as long as you veer away from the tourist traps), up the thumb, and the Chippewa Valley are all jam-packed with some awesome vistas.  And…if you’re like me and love water, come spend some time with me meditating along the Fox River or on the banks of Lake Michigan.  Leave the Speedo at home, though, because they MEAN it when they say “Cooler by the Lake.”

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6. If you were forced to pick one…Are you beauty, brawn, or brains?
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“Braaaaaaains….”

Actual quote from me before coffee….

 

 

 

 

 

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7. What is your birth order?
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I am 3rd.  I was the most awesomest child in the entire world…the one that the parents decided was the perfect child and that they couldn’t improve on with future offspring…until my little brother came along and foiled this joke.

I’ve spent the remaining years of my life becoming the hugest pain in the ass the family has ever seen.

Maybe my weirdness is because I’m a Sidhe changeling?

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8. What book/movie closely resembles the story of your life?

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OK, I’ll admit…the muse and I argued back and forth over this one…so we decided to add them both to this answer.  The first, because it’s as apt as apt can get in this day and age, and the second because Weird Al is my idol.

Seriously.

How can you NOT love a guy who’s made his way through life absorbing the artistic creations of his peers, then improving them with a healthy dash of Weird?

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9. What is the temperature outside right now?
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This may have the letters G, I, N, P, R, and S arranged in an order I have refused to type out, but I didn’t officially TYPE the letters in that order.  And, there are other letters jammed right up against them, so I’ve managed to keep the ban against that word intact.

According to the Wunderground, it is 56 degrees and sunny.  Should make a fantastic walk home tonight.  I think the slinky has officially started down the stairs here in Wisconsin.

 

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10. What is the last thing you ate?
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I’ve followed the Ketogenic style of eating for almost 2 years, now…so the bacon should come as no surprise.  I have a few slices every morning, coupled with a hard boiled egg and a slice of low-carb bread, and wash it all down with a large cup of coffee with cream.

Any ‘diet’ that encourages the consumption of bacon is a diet I can stick to.

 

 

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11. What is your favorite hobby?
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Unless you literally fell into my blog last night, you’ll know that I have an obsession with twisting little metal jump rings into slinky, twisty, comical and sometimes extremely colorful patterns.

In my world, chainmaille is not just a hobby, it’s a deeply held conviction that life could be better if everyone just wore handmade chains.

 

 

 

Nominees to continue the madness?  Well, this is the part I normally don’t like to do, because it sounds way too much like assigning homework to an unlucky student.  Blogging is supposed to be fun and spontaneous – not a chore.  If this wasn’t fun, I wouldn’t have maintained the T&T for the 4 (?) years I’ve been pounding the keys developing it.  But still….there are a couple of vict…er…bloggers out there I’m dying to spread a little sunshine to.  So…without further ado…I’d like to award little patches of sunshine to:

Hello Dearest Hurricane
Danseur Ignobile
The Shameful Sheep
Fatty McCupcakes

Patience of Willow

The Real Reality Show Blog

 

You guys are ALL awesome bloggers, and I’m pleased as punch to browse the dusty corners of your respective webspaces.

So here…satisfy my curiosity…and feel free to skip any questions that require the use of a slide rule, advanced mathematics or a crystal ball.

  1. make me the yummiest sammich to ever grace a plate.
  2. Do you like your handwriting?
  3. After that glorious morning pee, what’s the first thing you do?
  4. If you have 20 apples and some bully comes along and bruises half of them in New York, how long does it take the train travelling to Albuquerque to make a savory picnic pie from the remains?
  5. Tell me what’s in your iPod/MP3 player playlist, or the CD in your car stereo right now?
  6. Keeping with the music theme…shuffle or straight through albums?
  7. How soon after the advance ticket sales did you buy your seats for the opening night of Avengers: Infinity Wars?
  8. Have you watched all the other Marvel Universe movies in preparation for this event?
  9. Why won’t WordPress let me skip a number in this numbered list?
  10. Boxers or briefs (or other, I totally won’t judge!)?
  11. What’s the first thing you notice about people?
  12. What makes you unique?

 

Have fun with it…can’t wait to see what ya’ll come up with 😀

 

Mount Doom exists in Wisconsin

 

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It was cold.  It was dark….but it was NOT a stormy night.

Writers cliché avoided…

The air was crisp, as was the glistening sheen of hard-packed snow decorating the long-ish hill.  At the crest of this hump of frozen Earth milled a multitude of brightly-colored scarves, boots, hats, coats and mittens, each encasing a child excited to sit in a dull grey inner-tube and glide down the white expanse.

Tubing in Wisconsin in the 70’s was a very popular and social experience.

Off in the distance, campers and cars and buses dutifully sat in the parking lot, ready to warm their offward charges with hot chocolate, baked goods, and electric warmth once the heat of excitement was blown off the tube-ers by the breakneck velocities achieved by rubber gliding on ice propelled by gravity.

Baked goods were required for this event, as they were for most social gatherings in the 70’s in Wisconsin.  At this very moment my Mother was warming previously-frozen glazed donuts in our schoolbus-come-camper as Dad herded all 4 of us kids to the ticket booth.

Honestly, I think 8 year old me was more excited for the donuts… 

The ticket booth was a rough-wood shelter standing sentry between the hill and parking lot, offering more heat, additional baked goods, tube rentals, and a phone should summoning emergency personnel be necessary.

The excitement (as well as very fast-moving kids) covered the mountain, so thick you could smell it in the frosty air…although that could have been the exhaust from the tow rope mechanism.

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We were spoiled on this hill – we didn’t have to trudge up on foot, desperate to maintain balance while overloaded with a huge rubber tube…we got to go up in style, clinging to a thick and hairy rope which dragged us, sitting in our tubes, effortlessly up the summit.

 

Enter me…8 years old, and klutzy as hell.

The tow rope was coarse and rough and clingy.  It LOVED scarves and mittens the way I loved baked goods.  My scarf must have been extra tasty, because it was too busy eating it to let me get free of the rope once I’d made it all the way up to the top.

I banged into the safety rail at the top, screaming at the top of my lungs as I saw the huge pulley get its first taste of my red, white and blue knitted scarf…certain I was going to be sucked into the mechanism next.

America had just celebrated its bicentennial, and we were all kinda star-struck with patriotic-color fever.

Lucky for me, that safety rail, once jostled, stopped the rope’s incessant pull, and summoned the attendants at the top of the hill, who were well versed in extracting dangly bits of clothing from the gears.

It was probably bad for business (not to mention a social faux-pas) for the machinery to eat a small child.

A flurry of attendants descended on the howling me, one extracting me from my scarf, another extracting said scarf from the machinery, yet another lobbing my tubed-self out and away from the snacking rope into a fourth, who steadied the tube so I could climb out.  A fifth was given the knitwear and got me re-bundled, with the tow-rope treat now wrapped around my face and securely tucked inside my jacket.

The hill looked a LOT smaller from the bottom, and I have to admit, the courage (instilled in me by the goading of my older brother and sister) drained outta me like an over-full bladder at the MOUNTAIN of ice and rock I perched on the tip of – a wall of majestically plunging ravines and sharply up-thrusting spires threaded through the face of this Rocky Mountains wannabee of a hill.

I learned over-dramatization at a young age…

I sidestepped (VERY carefully) to the very end of the launch area, tube in tow, hoping that nobody would notice the little kid quietly questioning their sanity at deciding this death-drop into the jaws of oblivion sounded like fun.

Can we just skip ahead to the donuts in the bus, please???

The workers at the top of the hill must have experienced this hesitation in the youngsters before…because it wasn’t long before one of them stepped up to my quaking form.

“It’s fun…” she said.  “Let’s get you in the tube.”

She held the rubber ring-o-death firmly on the ground, steadying me as I hesitantly climbed aboard the vehicle of my destruction.

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Back in the day, we just had a big, rubber donut

You know, how now, when you go to an entertainment venue which incorporates big rubber tubes, the have handles built into the rubber so you can get a good grip?
Yea, those hadn’t been thought of yet in the 70’s.
The closest thing to a handle on this tube was the stem-bit sticking out of it so you could fill it with pressurized air.

I clung to that bit for dear life as the attendant shoved me into the void.

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I have no vivid recollection of the actual trip down the hill except for one long, unending wail of terror issuing from my throat, and a particularly large bump in the hillside which allowed me the thrill of going airborne in one direction while the tube took a different route.

 

Rolling, sliding, and flailing down an ice-covered hill in the dark of a cold, crisp night, surrounded on all sides by other kids breaking the sound barrier while safely encased in their rubber bumpers may be some masochistic person’s idea of a good time (and who am I to judge??), but I don’t share that sentiment.

Hours later, I came to a complete and total stop.
It felt like hours, thank you very much…
and found I’d survived my trip down the hill, more or less intact (bodily, yes, my pride, not so much).

My demonic, death-delivering transport ring drifted, almost gloatingly, about 20 yards away.  Now, it may have been the 20 pounds of finely-shaved ice crystals shoved in my ears by my cruel decent; it may have been the multiple contusions or the burgeoning concussion; it could even have been my heart beating so loudly in my chest they could hear it in the next county; but I will swear to this day I heard that sadistic rubber bladder giggling like thing gone mad.

 

I was SOOOOOOOOOO done with tubing.

 

I stalked over to the thing with all the strength of an indignant 8 year old.

Aimed a boot-and-snow covered foot at the thing.

Henceforth to be known as mistake number….ah….I think….I’ve lost count.  Mistake # whatever…

See…I’d forgotten one key element here.  My own personal cirque-de-sol-Satan, who had just finished tossing me off it’s back, had allies on this mountain.  And one was hurtling directly at my quaking, angry, threatening 8 year old form JUST as I aimed that kick.

Anybody get the licence number of that bus???

Ass over teakettle….again….and again…and again…  I got run over by a tube-er.

 

I was now REALLY done with tubing.  No amount of cajoling was getting me back up that mountain.

 

The only circles I saw from that point on in the evening were warm and bready, with lots of sugar-glaze.

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