Fascinating? Believe It or Not!

It seems like I’m at the top of everybody’s list these days. I figure it’s either because my name starts with “A” (that scored me a lot of unwanted front row seats in school), or it’s everybody’s naughty list, and when it comes to People You Don’t Allow Your Children To Play With, I’m the first one that comes to mind. (Okay, so I consider ice cream an entree and sprinkles the vegetable of the day. It's all about choices.)

Either way, I’ve been given awards by two really neat, cool people. Each award requires the reader to endure fascinating facts about me, and while I don’t mind ensnaring readers under false pretenses as a general rule, I feel obliged to come up with some interesting reading here. So bear in mind that these facts may tend more to the fascinating side than to the fact side, and that I am not invoking the “Satisfaction or Your Money Back Guarantee” on this one. Sit back and prepare to be amazed.

The Superior Scribbler Award from Stacey:
* Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
*Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
*Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
*Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
*Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.
(Instead of passing the award torch, I invite you to read the blogs of any of the talented participants in the Army of Ermas blog. They're terrific and I feel like the new girl whose clothes don't match but ended up in the sorority only because of family ties. I do have that one popular sister. I hate her.)

The Beautiful Blogger Award from Becster. As a requirement for accepting the award I am to share seven things about myself that my readers might not know, and then I'm to pass on the award to ten other Beautiful Bloggers! Ten? I don't have ten friends/family members/pets who would give me their telephone number. Don't get your hopes up here.

Fascinating facts:

1. I share a birthday with Abraham Lincoln. My kids think we’re twins. (Abe and Amy. It fits, right?) I told them our mother could only tell us apart because Abe parts his hat on the opposite side from me. And wears his beard shorter.

2. I’m not good with crafts. My niece gave me a glue gun for Christmas and I glued the bag closed before I could get the gun out. Now I’m required by law to keep the ammunition in a separate location.

3. I like to drive red cars. It’s a mother of two’s way of telling the world there’s more to me than apple juice and gym socks.

4. I like to wear blue jeans everywhere. It’s the white trash version of The Little Black Dress. Reeboks are my pumps. I have a matching wrap. It’s made by Levi Strauss.

5. If my mother weren’t already gone, she would dig her own grave with a grapefruit spoon if she heard me say white trash.

6. I drink Mountain Dew for the taste. That’s like saying I read Playboy for the articles. It’s really all about the rush.

7. I wish I could play the piano. I’d like to hit the ivories at high speed with Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy and leave steam rising from the keys once before I die.

8. Or I’d like to play the trumpet. Or the saxophone. Or the kazoo. Or name the letters for the notes of the staff without having to buy a vowel.

9. My kids think they know everything because they can program the TV, the computer, and the cell phone. But they don’t know that I named the dog the primary beneficiary on my life insurance policy or that he’s in charge of their trust fund.

10. My husband, the Captain of our Love Boat, secretly thinks that I’m bossy, that I like to do everything my own way, and that I’m adverse to change. I think adverse means the opposite of reverse and is one of the gifts and graces mentioned in the Bible.

11. I’ve been married twice. So far.

12. I live in a duplex with a husband, two grown boys, three dogs, and three cats. One of the dogs thinks she’s a cat, but that really doesn’t help the numbers any.

13. On Friday nights my kitchen hosts an assembly of trolls, thieves, and warriors. I don’t mind their games as much as the fact that a troll goes through groceries like Brer Rabbit through the briar patch.

14. I was inside a church that caught on fire. No one was hurt, but to this day, I can’t roast marshmallows without singing Nearer My God to Thee.

15. I don’t follow directions well.

Take a Risk

With the exception of a spirited round of Monopoly in which at least one family member gave in to displays of aggression (which eventually led to excommunication of the indicated party from Monopoly eligibility), our family has always enjoyed board games.

However, now that the boys are grown, I’m less likely to find Candy Land or Battleship in my house than I am to find the kitchen table sporting a board with a colorful world map, and everyone at Risk. Or, on random weekend nights it’s not unusual to come across a fighter, a thief, a rock troll, and a Feegle balanced on chairs and stools around the table entranced in a role playing adventure based on Terry Pratchett’s DiscWorld novels.

It no longer shocks me to hear such statements as, “If you’re a dwarf, you get to use bread as a weapon.”

Or to hear a tiny blue man screech “Waily, waily, waily,” when he gets caught guzzling kerosene by the Head Lady In Charge.

Or to come across a rock troll muttering, “They have sledgehammers, so I’m wielding a man in armor. (Granted, trolls don’t have the command of the language that, say, a personification of Death might display, but I think I’m fairly close with the translation.) All in all I find that Rock Trolls are inclined to engage in fisticuffs. If you call planting warriors in the ground like rows of corn, fisticuffs.

What I do have trouble with is the care and feeding of the players. Ever since we found out The Captain of our little clan has higher numbers than Stephen Hawking can imagine when it comes to triglycerides, we’ve cut back on nonessential food items.

Unfortunately “nonessential” is an abstract term whose meaning has come under intense discussion at our house. The latest example came Friday night when the alternate species filed into the kitchen for game night.

Apparently, “Man Snacks” do not include diet ginger ale and sugar free pudding.

Nor is angel food cake with raspberry fruit spread acceptable as an alternative.

You just can’t please some rock trolls. I explained the dietary restrictions in my calm, peacekeeping voice.

“Don’t worry about her,” the thief whispered to the Dungeon Master as I left the room. “This is nothing. You should hear her when we play Monopoly.”