Monday, November 29, 2010

Wherein I get a Very Sweet Blog Award

Last Friday, the lovely Elizabeth Flora Ross did me the honor of making me the very first recipient of this:

Yeah, I know. I don't understand it, either. She thinks I'm a rad read? Huh. There's just no accounting for taste, huh?  

If I've linked it right, when you click on the picture you should be taken to a page on Elizabeth's blog that explains the award. If I haven't linked it right (a distinct possibility), try clicking here instead.  

Anyway, thank you, E. Flora! Very much appreciated. :)  

So, I'm supposed to share what I like about blogging, and what I hope to accomplish through this blog. Hmm...

What I Like about Blogging:

1. Well, in case anyone hasn't noticed, I'm kind of a smartass. (Also a badass. But that's another post.) This blog is the perfect outlet for my smart-assery. 

2. The connection with my blog readers. Seriously, I love getting to know my readers through their comments. It's nice to know I'm not just talking to myself here.

3. I love visiting the blogs of the people who visit me here. I've "met" (cyber-ly speaking) some really cool people here. Your blogs rock, you guys!

4. As much as I oppose discipline in general, blogging on a regular basis does breed a certain amount of writing discipline, always a plus when you're trying to, yannoh, be a writer.

5. I get to be the boss of my blog. What I say goes. OH, THE POWER!!!! Bwah-ha--haaah!!!

What I Hope to Accomplish

Really, I just like making people laugh, or at least smile. If someday (in the bright, shiny future) my books get published, and people who've read my blog remember my name and think, Hey, she's kinda funny. Maybe I'll give her book a try...well, that would be a huge bonus.

I'm also supposed to share a list of my favorite blogs. Gaaah! There are so many I enjoy. I'd be here all day if I tried to list them all. There's Elizabeth's, of course, which you can get to by clicking on the link above. 

Here are some others I read regularly, and am always entertained by:

Suelandia (with amazing pictures of her welded art!)

...and I know I'm forgetting some, because my brain is a sieve sometimes. If I've left you out, please berate me in the comments, and I'll try to do better next time. 

Friday, November 26, 2010

Post Turkey Day Stupor

Limerick #1

On Thanksgiving a woman named Grimes
Lifted a fork to her mouth many times.
So much did she eat,
She decided to cheat
By padding her blog post with rhymes.

Limerick #2

If you're feeling the slightest bit frownie
Try eating a chocolate-y brownie
If it's ever so chewy,
And spiked with Kahlu-y,
Your frownie will turn upside-downie.

Okay, I admit it. I'm writing this on Thursday (i.e., Thanksgiving) evening. Well, I'm kind of writing it. Mostly, I'm watching stuff like this on the Discovery Channel with my family:

Because watching people shoot pumpkins from various pieces of homemade machinery just seems like the thing to do after sharing a scrumptious meal with people you love.

Oh, and I found some more hand turkeys. I think these a pretty awesome:

So, yeah. Had a great meal (turkey, two kinds of dressing, mashed potatoes & gravy, green bean casserole, squash casserole, chunky cranberry sauce, jellied cranberry sauce, corn pudding, apple pie, pumpkin pie, and Kahlua brownies...and I'm probably forgetting some stuff) with 21 people ranging in age from 88 down to 2. I can't begin to describe how much fun it was, so I won't. I'll just say that in our family, this is everyone's favorite meal of the year.

Hope your day was as awesome as mine. :)

And now I will return to my post turkey stupor...

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

An inspirational (and short) Thanksgiving message

[I don't blog on Thursdays, so this is a day early. Unless you're reading it a day late, in which case it is right on time.]

For all my writing buddies participating in NaNo this month, here's a little Thanksgiving inspiration for you:

If you're working on a mystery or a police procedural, you might find this helpful:

And for those of you who long for the good old days, a little holiday nostalgia:

(Come on. You made a hand turkey when you were a kid, didn't you? If not, try it now. It's fun!)

Finally, if you just come here for the cheap laughs (you know who you are):

 To all of you who celebrate it, a Very Happy Thanksgiving. May you eat until you're uncomfortably full, drink until you say something inappropriate, and laugh until you wish you were wearing depends. :)

To all of you who don't (or who, like the Canadians, have already celebrated), heck, load up on the goodies anyway. Occasional overindulgence is good for you, and the contrast makes you feel even more virtuous on the days you behave. ;)

Monday, November 22, 2010


 Truly, I love ALL of the entries. I now have a bunch of good ideas to employ on any future wormy days. So thanks! You all rock.

However, I did have to narrow it down, because I do not have an endless supply of gummy worms. So, because she wrote a limerick incorporating my new animal theme from last Monday (llamas), because she sucked up to me mentioned visiting my blog, because I identify with her tendency to overuse commas, AND because I am myself too lazy to jog, I give you the WINNER...

Bess Weatherby!

Check out Bess's blog here.

 I picture a herd of green llammas
Wearing purple-striped pink lace pajamas
Then I visit your blog
(Too lazy for a jog)
or write poems with too many commas. 

(Yes, I took the liberty of illustrating her limerick. The pajamas are not quite as she described, but hey, they're llamas. In pajamas. Cut me some slack.)

Here's what Bess has won for her poetic effort:

Yes, two, count e'm, TWO kinds of GUMMY WORMS, original and Sour Brite Crawlers. Yum!

And, as promised, a book straight off my bookshelves: Galileo's Daughter (which is actually more about Galileo than his daughter, but whatever) by Dava Sobel. The reason I chose this book, apart from it being the winner of a Los Angeles Times Book Prize, is...well, to be honest, I have two copies of it. (What? It's hard to give away a book you only have one copy of when you're a bibliomaniac like me.)

Bess, if you'll email me your address at linda(dot)grimes(at)gmail(dot)com, I'll send your prize ASAP. :)

Friday, November 19, 2010

Bam-Bam, the Fish, and the Universe

My dad died when I was twelve and my baby brother was three.

(Relax. This isn't going to be a maudlin post.)

My older brothers and I did our best to help Mom with, oh, let's call him "Bam-Bam." Because that's what we did call him. See, he had this little wooden hammer, and was not bashful about using it...but that's not really germane to this story.

One of my dad's favorite pastimes was fishing. We'd go to the lake in the summer, and stay for a few days or a week, depending on how much time off Dad could get. He would spend every spare second down on the dock, fishing. My older brothers spent their fair share of time there with him, proudly holding their rods. (Heh-heh.)

I'd join them sometimes, mainly to watch. And *cough* possibly to make a lot of noise, trying to scare the fish away before they were hooked. (Yeah, imagine how popular I was with the menfolk.) What can I say? I was a soft-hearted twerp. Besides, the worms were icky. I couldn't bear to squish them onto the hooks myself, and even when my dad did it for me, it still freaked me out. I mean, eew. Worm guts.

So I spent most of my time in the camp's rec room, playing ping-pong and drinking Delaware Punch (the only non-carbonated beverage in the soda machine. Oh, and reading, of course. Good times.

Bam-Bam wasn't old enough for any quality dock time before Dad died, but he'd heard stories. When he was about six, he got it into his head that he wanted to go fishing, just like his daddy. My other brothers were busy doing teenage boy things, and Mom didn't fish, so I figured it was up to me.

Trouble was, I still couldn't stand to, you know...

 Which was really fine, because I sure as heck didn't want to deal with... actual fish.

See, what I had in mind was a nice afternoon bonding with my baby brother while he dangled a worm-less hook in the water. Pretending to fish. After all, just holding the pole was the important part. (Honest to God, I tried to come up with a way to not make that sound like a double entendre, but I don't think there is one.) Anyway, no worm, no possibility I'd have to deal with a fish, right?

Ha. Hahahahahahaha. HA! <--Hysterical Hindsight Laughter

So, what do you suppose happened the very first time Bam-Bam dropped that hook in the water, and jerked it back out in his sheer enthusiasm for the activity?

That's right. He hooked a fish. Through its back.

There, dangling from Bam-Bam's fishing line, was a four-inch, silver-gray fish who was suddenly having a very bad day.

Picture it: you are the Einstein of fishes, much too smart to snap at a worm on a hook. No, you'd rather starve than place your mouth on any strangely still, hook-shaped worms. Because you know better. And then out of nowhere comes a freakin' worm-free hook, speeding through the water above you, and before you can wiggle your tail and swim away you are suspended in front of a six-year-old human boy shrieking, "Can we eat it? Huh? Can we eat it?"

Like I said. Bad day for the fish. (And me--I had to *shudder* take the hook out.) But Best Day Ever for my baby brother, even though I had to explain to him that we had to throw the fish back because it was too small to keep. Didn't matter to him. He'd caught his fish.

There's a lesson in there somewhere. Something about never taking anything for granted. Or about how life can surprise you in the damndest ways. Or how, even when the odds are against you, things sometimes work out. Or perhaps how point of view is everything (think of the fish). Take your pick. Me, I just look back on it and laugh.

How about you? Has life handed you any small surprises? How'd they work out for you?

P.S. Speaking of worms, there's still time to enter my SAVE THE WORMS contest. Have you saved a worm today?

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Save the WORMS! (It's a Contest!!)

"Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, I'm gonna eat some worms..."

You know that song, right? I found a video of it on YouTube, but I'm sparing you, because it's kind of gross.

Ever have one of those days? I do. Not often, but every now and then. Usually for no good reason. If you happen to be leaning in the wormy direction already (*cough* hormones *cough*), it doesn't take much you push you over the edge into reading every random happening as a personal slight.

And this is NOT a good thing, people.

Especially for the worm.

 So I've decided to launch a SAVE THE WORMS campaign. I'm making a list of things that get me out of worm-eating moods. Maybe the list will help my fellow wannabe worm-eaters through their low moments, too.


~ Eat ice cream instead. Because, really, it tastes so much better than worms. Or so I imagine. And nothing anchors those rose-colored glasses firmly into place like a good cone.

~ Read--or better yet, write--a limerick. Say, like...

If you're considering the eating of worms
Take care, for they surely have germs
They're also quite squiggle-y,
Slimy, gooey, and wiggle-y
And likely to give you the squirms.

(Hey, it's early. My limerick muscles aren't entirely awake. But you get the idea.)

~ Pick up an old favorite, and escape into another world for a while.

~ Get out and move. Because it's hard to feel like eating worms when you're sweating. Oh, and take a friend.

~ Listen to an obnoxious song. Because it's better to get an ear worm than to eat a real worm.

~Force yourself to smile. Research shows the physical act of using your smile muscles actually releases some sort of endorphins in the brain, and you will feel better.

 (If you're still frowning in spite of your best efforts, stand on your head. It will look like a smile to the rest of us, and keep us entertained besides.)

Care to contribute to my SAVE THE WORMS campaign? Just let me know, in the comments, what you do to keep yourself from eating worms when you're feeling down.

Best answer will win you a--you guessed it!--bag of...

...GUMMY WORMS!! Yum. :) Oh, and a grab-bag book from my overstuffed bookshelves. The title will be a surprise. Are you feeling lucky today? Huh? Are you?

As always, winner will be selected by me on a purely subjective basis. Make me laugh, people. Move me to tears. Impress the hell out of me with your wackily creative ideas. (Bonus points if it's in limerick form. Or haiku. Or rhymes in any way whatsoever. Or is strictly conversational prose. See how easy I am?)

In case of a tie, TG will be the official tie-breaker. Contest will close Sunday, Nov. 21, at 6 p.m. East Coast Time.

Monday, November 15, 2010

llinda does llamas (wait--that doesn't sound quite right...)

Okay, this one is for Elizabeth Ryann, who commented on Twitter that I seem to have a thing for camels. (Not necessarily so. Camels just lend themselves to Wednesday posts. You know, because it's Hump Day.) Still, she thought maybe it was time to give another animal some blog time, and suggested a llamas might be good fodder for a Monday post.

Since I am ever accommodating, I give you...


Llamas are CUTE:

Come on. Who can resist that face? Don't you just want to snuggle up with it, and let it nibble on your ears?

Llamas are also talented, as evidenced by this llama's uncanny ability to do celebrity impressions:

Llamas are even portable. Though they may not be the world's best car passengers...

Llamas are sometimes forgetful. For instance, this one forgot where it lleft its llegs (and its ears):

But llamas are still handy to have around if you ever need an excuse (and you know how fond I am of excuses):

And best of all, you can play dress-up with your llama:

If you enjoyed this llittle llesson about llamas, please tell me in the comments. If you didn't, please lleave a comment blaming Elizabeth.

Friday, November 12, 2010

The trouble with being an avid reader... that you get conditioned to enjoying things vicariously. Honestly, if I can do something in my head, it's almost as good as doing it real life. Why expend the actual physical energy when the payoff from just reading about it is so satisfying?

[EXCEPTION: This does not, I repeat, not, apply to certain activities of the, um, romantic sort. If you get my drift. *cough* Some things you really have to be there for.]

My agency sistah, Tawna Fenske, recently did a hilarious post about her trip to the hardware store. It got me thinking about some of my trips to the hardware store with TG (which I fully expect will be more entertaining in the future, now that I know what kind of double-entendre packaging to look for). On our last trip to Home Depot we bought a chainsaw, with which to rid our yard of all the winter damage. (Sadly, that was one activity we could not leave in the virtual realm.)

[Stick with here. There is a connection.] 

Anyway, while we were there at the Home Improvement Mecca, we also perused the kitchen and bath aisles, as is our wont to do on these impromptu "dates," drooling over fixtures and cabinets (not literally; I mean, that would be gross), debating which we might choose once we get around to actually updating our house. We do the same thing when we go to Ikea, or Lowe's, or anyplace with cabinets. It's a fun way to spend an afternoon, and since our tastes are similar, we mostly agree on style.

The only trouble is, just looking is enough to scratch the refurbishing itch. We never seem to feel a pressing need to follow through with the actual implementation of our ideas.

Well, to be fair, if TG had more free time, he would do it. But theater is a harsh and demanding mistress. (Hmm. Are you imagining black leather, stiletto heels, and whips? Yeah, me too.) And I'm a tool klutz, so I can't do it on my own. Ergo, lots of projects go on our "Later" list.

I'm the same way with other people's pets now, too. Since our last, officially-truly-ours pet died, I haven't exactly rushed out to replace him. At first it was because I was too traumatized by the loss. We'd had  Clancy-cat for so long it was hard to imagine life with a subtitute. (More about Clancy here.) But if I'm honest--which I try to be at least 97.8% of the time--I've gotten pretty used to not being responsible for the care, feeding, and poop-cleaning-up of another being. We have a part-time cat who drops by daily for treats and a cuddle, and that, along with occasional visits to Cute Overload, satisfies the pet urge in both of us.*

How about you guys? Anything you'd just as soon experience vicariously? Or are you the Everything** Has To Be Real type? Do share. Inquiring minds want to know.

*For now. Though TG is lobbying heavily for an English bulldog, which, in his head, he has already named "Fugly." I've warned him not to expect a little Fugly under the Christmas tree this year, or any year before he retires and can follow Fugly around on walks himself, plastic bag in hand. Because I ain't picking up Fugly poop.

**Well, except, you know, murder and stuff like that. I'm going to assume you don't want to experience that firsthand.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

A little Hump Day NaNo-spiration

I know getting over all those word count humps isn't easy...

And the first draft you wind up with might be in serious need of a makeover...

But hang in there!  Every desert has an oasis...

You will get there! And when you do, you'll find me already there, along with all the other lazy gits not participating, three drinks ahead of you and toasting your success...

Yup. You're going to have some catching up to do.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Rationalizations R Us Redux

A while back I did a post about my extraordinary ability to rationalize anything.

Now, I'm not generally one to toot my own horn (stop laughing), but I am rather adept at coming up with good excuses. If you doubt this, check out my recent NaNoWriMo post for a list of 10 excellent reasons I'm not participating.

Anyway, I figure November, the gateway to the Holiday Season, is prime time for rationalizing. Who doesn't need a good excuse this time of year?

Here a few freebies for you:

Having trouble getting motivated for the day job? 

~Try telling your boss you're taking a day off to "fortify your immune system" so a nasty flu bug won't keep you from work later, when s/he needs you more. You're only staying home for the good of the company. (Hey, this is not a lie. Sleep is the best way to fortify your immune system. Just sleep when ditch work, and you're golden.)

Can't bear the thought of another Thanksgiving with the in-laws? 

~Try telling your spouse that this is the year you feel yourself on the edge of cracking, and that, in the interest of maintaining harmonious familial relations beyond Turkey Day, you will graciously volunteer to feign illness *cough* just this once. Then stay home, order take-out, and sip wine in a bubble bath. For the sake of the family

Prospect of holiday shopping getting you down? 

~De-commercialization, anyone? You know, the true meaning of any holiday lies in the...yadda-yadda-yadda. You'll have to work on perfecting your sincere face to pull this one off, and if you have  young children...well, good luck. But, really, isn't their long term moral development more important than their excited little faces at gift-opening time?

Don't want to work yourself to a frazzle baking all those holiday goodies this year?

~Honestly, isn't it your civic duty to stimulate the economy and help keep professional bakers employed?

Sick and tired of pre-holiday dieting just so you can enjoy those December parties guilt-free? 

~Carrying a few extra pounds helps stave off osteoporosis. Wearing too-tight clothing for a little while is a small price to pay to prevent a future hip fracture.

Can't keep up with your blog roll?

~Copy the following, and paste it into every blog you visit today:

Wow! What a brilliant and insightful post. You rock! *

So, I am officially open for special requests. Have a situation you need a good rationalization for? Ask away. I will do my best to help. 

*Just so you know, this will cease to be amusing after about the third time somebody pastes that into MY comments... ;)

Friday, November 5, 2010

My Sordid Criminal Past

WARNING: The following post contains such words as "h*t p*le" and "t!t" and "chickensh!t" and "bad*ss." Read at your own peril.

(Oh, come on. This is me. How bad can it really be?)

Even before my walk on the wild side as an almost-gunrunner in Ireland, I had already dipped briefly into a life of crime. Difficult though it will be for you to believe it:

I am an international smuggler.

There. *bites knuckle* I've said it. Think of me what you will. But it's not my fault! I was young. I was impetuous.  

I was Double-Dog Dared.

And we've already seen what depths I will stoop to when dared, haven't we? So you can hardly be surprised to learn that this behavioral tendency has its roots in my murky past.

It was my junior year of college, and I was studying abroad in Stockholm. (TG says he studied a broad in college, too--several, in *waggles eyebrows*) Over spring break a group of us international students went Russia. We stayed five days in Moscow and four in St. Petersburg. Since we were tagging along with a high school study group, you'd think we couldn't manage to get into much trouble, wouldn't you?

Yeah, you'd think that. But you'd be wrong.

Listen, all I can say is, it's not that tough for five college girls to ditch one harried high school chaperone, who was naturally way more concerned with keeping tabs on his underage charges than on those of us who were supposed to be "mature." The poor man may even have been under the impression we would actually help him ride herd on the teenagers.

[Pause for interlude of hysterical laughter.]

Shortly after we arrived in Moscow (getting there was a harrowing experience in itself--I'm not sure how it is today, but back then there was a good reason Aeroflot was commonly known as "Aeroflop" *shudders*), one of our motley crew of college girls--let's call her TUNS (short for "Thinks Up Naughty Stuff")--decided it would be fun to take a cab to the nearest fancy restaurant and dine spectacularly on caviar and vodka.

Well, the only thing was, the exchange rate from Swedish crowns to Russian rubles was not so great. None of us poor college students could afford it.

"Ha!" says Tuns. "No problem. I know a guy..."

Know a guy she did. He was a Pole (as in from Poland, not a staff, and quite classically handsome, if physical considerations are important to you) from our International Swedish language class. He happened to be visiting his Russian cousin at the same time as our trip.

What a coincidence! I'm sure the timing of his trip had nothing to do with the fact that Tuns had been seeing him on the sly back in Sweden. He was married to a Swedish woman, purely, he assured us all, to gain residency. Didn't stop him from trying to date me, Tuns, and every other American girl in our language class. I think he had aspirations of U.S. citizenship. Tuns had no intention of marrying him, even if he did divorce his Swedish wife, but she couldn't see why that should stop her from letting him *cough* try to persuade her.

Long story short (or is it already too late for that?), Hot Pole's [Heh-heh. I said "Hot Pole."] Russian cousin was a taxi driver who dabbled in, um, unofficial currency exchange. Apparently, this sort of "moonlighting" was quite common then. Might still be, for all I know. He gave us an exchange rate approximately ten times better than the official one, assuring us that "nobody really minded" as long as we didn't try to take any Russian currency out of the country with us. We'd have to spend it all while we were there.

This did not strike us as an especially bad hardship. *blink*

Russian Cousin also said he could give us a very good rate on a cab ride to a nice restaurant. So five of us girls, plus Hot Pole (heh), squeezed into (heh-heh) a tee-niny cab, built to hold three passengers, tops.

Have I mentioned this was March, and that this particular March in Moscow was colder than the proverbial witch', bosom? (Bosom is better than tit, right? I'm working on my restraint.) With four-foot snowbanks along the sides of the roads? Also, apparently it's illegal for taxi drivers to over-stuff their cabs, drive without their meters on, and then not report the income to whoever the Russian equivalent to Uncle Sam is?

Yeah. Well, it is, it is, and it is. So we spent the whole cab ride caroming around icy streets, avoiding cop cars, and finally wound up slamming head-on into a snowbank. Fun stuff.

To give Russian Cousin his due, he did get us to the restaurant...after we all helped dig is car out of the snow. And the restaurant was spectacular. The food was amazing, the wait staff so attentive we felt like celebrities, and the vodka flowed freely enough that none of us felt our whiplash.

But back to the main point of this post. After lots more antics along those lines, one of them involving all of us getting kicked out of Lenin's tomb for inappropriate laughter (what? he looked like a reject from Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum), we found we had some rubles left over as we packed to head back to Sweden.

Tuns told us the rubles would make wonderful mementos of our trip to Russia, and that she fully intended to take hers with her. Went so far as to say if we didn't do the same, we'd be chickenshits, and she would spend the rest of the semester clucking at us whenever she passed us in the hall.

Then she did it. She double-dog dared us.

What choice did we have? The other girls stuffed rubles in their bras, but I thought that seemed too obvious. So I pried open my dental floss case, folded up my 5-ruble bill really small, crammed it beneath the wound-up white thread, and closed the case back up, good as new. Squeezed a small blob of toothpaste on the outside case for authenticity's sake, and to discourage any official who happened to rifle through my bags from actually touching it. (I thought that was a rather clever touch.)

Then I proceeded to have heart palpitations until we were safely through airport security. No one checked any of our bags, but I didn't breathe easily until we were back on Swedish soil. Badass though I am, I don't think I'm cut out for a life of crime.

How about you guys? Have you ever broken an international law? Do share in the comments. I swear your secret is safe with me.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

NaNo? Uh, NoNo...

If you're at all involved in the online writing community, you already know about NaNoWriMo, affectionately truncated to NaNo.  Basically, you sign up to write a whole novel between November 1 and November 30. Lots of my writing buddies have attempted this. Some have even succeeded.

I have never even tried. Let me tell you why.

The Top Ten Reasons I Say No-No to NaNo

10. The temptation to cheat would be too great. I just know as soon as I slipped behind on my daily word count goal, I'd dip into something I've already written, doctor it up a bit, and cram it in to make it fit. And cheating would be wrong.

9. I've never really written a "first draft." By which I mean: I fiddle with the parts I've already written all the way through, so by the time I reach "The End," I'm probably on about draft 25 of the early chapters.

8. I'm too competitive. If my friends who are participating were to tell me they'd written 2000 words for the day, I'd have to write 2001. (I know. It's a sickness.)

7. I may be *cough* ever-so-slightly contrary. If somebody is telling me I have to do something, I can usually find a way not to. Which explains why I haven't yet read Twilight or seen Titanic. Too many people told me I "just had to!"

6. I'm too superstitious. I know, deep down, as soon as I commit to writing a whole novel in a month, something will happen to keep it from happening. My computer will blow up. I'll come down with bubonic plague. There will be a rare November blizzard, and I will be shoveling out until Christmas. The Zombie Apocalypse will descend, and my brain will be eaten. Take your pick.

5. November zips by fast enough as it is. I can't afford to age any faster than I already am.

4. Turkey coma. I will eat so much on Thanksgiving that my brain won't be functional until the first week of December.

3. I like to get the laundry done during my daily writing time. We don't have enough clothing to get me through NaNo.

2. If I were to manage to write a whole novel in a month, how would I ever live up to it with future novels? Say I were to take six weeks for the next one? or seven? or even eight? Think how inadequate I would feel. Who needs to feel inadequate?

And the #1 REASON I'm not doing NaNo? Because I know I'd never be able to keep up with regular blog posts if I did. Either writing mine or reading the ones I follow. Yes, dear readers, it's a huge sacrifice, but I'm DOING IT FOR YOU. :)

Monday, November 1, 2010

Winner of the WHY!

On Friday I was running a little short on time, what with getting ready for weekend visitors and all (I <3 my kiddos--we had so much fun over the weekend!). So I posted this picture:

...and said the commenter with the best "answer" would win some sort of prize, either silly or edible. Maybe even both.

Of course, at the time I had no freaking idea what that prize would be. Let's be honest here...I panicked. I hadn't had time to write an actual post, and I've been trying to be consistent with blogging on M/W/F, so when I saw that picture I pounced on it like a duck on a duck on a June bug.

Anyhoo, I went digging through my basement (aka, "Nerdvana") to see if I had anything suitably silly on hand to use as a prize. (Short on time, remember? Couldn't shop.) Lo and behold, I found this:

It's a Water Bomb Blaster! It shoots water balloons with a slingshot-like apparatus. Obviously it's a collectible, since it's still in the package. (Ha!) Okay, "collectible" might be a stretch. But at least it looks suitably silly to me.

Especially when paired with:

Which is both edible AND silly. And, according to my darling daughter, rather in keeping with the water balloons, being similarly fluid-fluid filled.

Ah-ha! I was sensing a theme building here. So TG suggested I add this:

You know, since a blimp is kind of balloon-like, and thus fits the theme. By the way, when you twist the tail of this little blimp, you see this:

Cool, huh?

Even without knowing how cool the prize would be, y'all still came through for me with some GREAT answers to my burning question! (If you haven't already, go here and read the comments.)

After much deliberation, and a consultation with TG over a champagne cocktail on Halloween:

(Yes, that is Andre, "the beer of bottled champagne," which is why we added the sugar cube and bitters to it. Normally we drink slightly better champagne, but this bottle was left over from the Flying Karamazov Brothers' Terror Trick. It was a spare they didn't need, since they successfully performed the truly impressive feat of jugglery. Waste not, want not...)

*ahem* As I was saying, after much deliberation, it was decided there was a 14-way tie for second place. Jessica, Patty, Stageman, Karla, Abby, Demery, Kristen, Candyland, NotJana, Courtney, Dianne, Elizabeth, Trisha, and Kerry: thank you all for your answers. They are BRILLIANT. Your prize is that you amused me greatly.

(Come on. Doesn't that just warm the cockles of your heart? Yeah, I thought it would. Because y'all are just that cool.) 

Which leaves FIRST PLACE to the one and only LENNY LEE!!!!

Lenny's answer made me smile, and then laugh, because I totally understand the "devil made me do it " excuse when it comes to taking Halloween candy. Lenny, thanks so much for your great answer to my "WHY?" I'll be putting your prize in the mail as soon as I can get to the post office.

Everyone else: stay tuned to this space in the future for more silly questions, contests, and prizes.