Sile tagged me, and although I don't normally do the memes--I figure you've had your fill of my stuff by now--but I got to thinking about blogs.
The thing about writing a blog is that people want to know about you. In normal people-practice, I generally want to know the usual things, you know: Name; City of Residence; Number of Children; Whether You're Good, Bad, Sad or Funny or a Cynic; or if I Want to be a Little Like You, or Lot Like You.
So what's up with the blogging thing? Does the blogging thing do something magical to the writer of the blog so that the readers develop a fascination with what it is they do not say, write or imply?
At any rate. It's the holidays. I'm tired. The you-knows will likely be demanding lamb and truth be told, I wouldn't know the difference between a lamb, a pig, or a chicken when dead and naked.
So, here you go.
I betcha didn't know that I wore a patch on my left eye until I was probably eight years old, and wore contacts at age two. (I think I told you that, so I guess this one doesn't count out of the five).
My father beat the Minnesota Mid-Weight Wrestling Champion in a match, but apparently, the officials weren't looking at the moment. (Oops; that's not about me, so this one doesn't count, either.)
I never went to prom. I wasn't asked, and when I asked someone else; I got turned down. (But you knew that, though.)
When I spin on roller skates, I spin in the wrong direction, (You knew that, too).
I've always been a blonde until I accidentally went brunette and then ended up purple. In a rash move, I shaved my head. This was on my college graduation day, but I will say that the mortar board fit terrifically. (That counts as Number One.)
I have a death wish: The last time I went skiing, I dislocated both my knees when I attempted the splits while going downhill. And, whenever I'm standing up on top a tall building, my feet tingle and I have a sudden urge to fly. (Number Two.)
I've been pregnant with four children. Twins--a girl and a boy--a boy, and a girl. Only one survived. (Number Three.)
My mom's last words to me were: "I'll never forget you." (Number Four.)
Whew. That was easy.
Oh, and I'm kind of sick about not showing off stuff I'm working on for the you-know. I figure, since readership is slow due to the holidays, I am safe in showing just a tidbit. I've been knitting like crazy and some days when I write this blog, I feel like I'm some sort of a cheat by not sharing what's going on.
You're my friends and my family, after all, and although I think it is sort of nuts that I'm knitting and modeling and the whole blogging thing is semi-surrealistic, that we understand each other...