Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Thank you, Becoming a Different Person, for my Honest Scrap Award :)
So here are the rules:
Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.
Show the 7 winners names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with “Honest Scrap.” Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.
List at least 10 honest things about yourself.
Here are 10 honest things about me:
1) I used to walk on my tip-toes from about Kindergarten to 3rd or 4th Grade. Not all the time, but the majority of the time.
2) I have hiccups more often than most people I know, but it was about 20 times worse when I was a kid (and, from what my mother tells me, even in the womb). I actually think that my mother only helped reinforce this little problem of mine, because her remedy for hiccup removal was a teaspoon of sugar. Something about the granulation... I don't know. All I know is that it got to a point where I'd get the hiccups as a kid, and I'd immediately start walking around the house yelling, "Hiccups! Sugar! Hiccups! Sugar!"
3) I also loved to pretend I knew how to sing opera when I was 4 and 5 years old. One of my older sisters remembers distinctly waking up one Saturday morning to me singing at the top of my lungs in a vibrato-falsetto the theme-song to the Care Bears: "It's Care-a-lot... it's a place that we all looooooove!"
4) As long as we're on the childhood theme, may as well continue. When I said my prayers at night, around 3 years old, I would finish by saying goodnight to Mary and Jesus. And then I'd have them answer back, complete with a hand gesture/talking mouth. It went a little something like this.
Me: "Goodnight, Mary."
Mary (via my talking hand, in a high-pitched squeeky voice): "Goodnight, Amy."
Me: "Goodnight, Jesus."
Jesus (in as low a voice as a 3 yr old girl can make): "Goodnight, Amy."
5) We have 7 pets in our home now, and about 7 nicknames for each of them. We rarely call our pets by their actual name, for some reason. For example, our dog Quincy was nicknamed early on "Wittles" (because he was so cute and wittle when we got him). But we also call him Quince, Wittle-Witts, Quincifer Robin (one of DH's faves), and Brownie.
6) I hate mashed potatoes. I realize this makes me almost non-American, but I really don't like the consistency. I sometimes lie and tell my FIL that I like his, because they have chunks, but even his are hard to swallow.
7) There's a tie for the two most defining times in my life. One was the summer after 8th grade, when I was in a production of Godspell with kids from my school and other local schools. (I sang "By My Side," and the character I played was very similar to who I am as a follower of Christ, then and now.) The other was when I lived in Italy and studied at an Italian University. I think I really discovered what was most important to me in life during that semester. Ironically, this was also the time I was getting to know my DH :)
8) I just submitted our formal application online to the adoption agency today. There may be some areas that need more info (like, I didn't know exactly how much DH's disability coverage is for), but for the most part, that part is done!! As soon as it's approved, we move on to the Homestudy!
9) I'm a little anal retentive when it comes to dental hygiene. I brush at least 3 times a day, and have been told several times by my dentists that I don't need to brush so hard, because it's affecting my gums. And that's with a soft bristle.
10) My father's side of the family is Scandinavian (Swedish and Norwegian). While studying in Italy, I went to visit a friend in Nice, France. We went out to a Swedish-run bar. While there, I was speaking English, a little French (what I could remember from HS), and even Italian with some Italian guys who were vacationing there. I went to the bathroom at one point, and while standing in line, a Swedish waitress taps me on the shoulder and says something that sounded like, "Yampin garmin chootin fer madin?" I literally just stared blankly at her, trying to figure out what language I should respond, "I don't understand Swedish" in. She must have seen how confused I looked, and in perfect English said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were Swedish."
It was pretty cool being mistaken for a Swede by a Swede, though :) That's something that never happened in Italy, what with my whiter-than-a-baby's-butt complexion.
And now I tag... everyone who is reading this :) Yes, because if you are here reading this, that means you know me, and I know you, and I admire ALL of your blogs so much. I'm also lazy and want to go to bed, so don't feel like putting all the links down :P