All about Me
Jan. 14th, 2007 05:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
averygoodun42Ganked from keladry_lupin
THE LETTER A:
Are you available? I'll look at my schedule
What is your age? 20 something (I'm losing track)
What annoys you? kids *sigh*
THE LETTER B:
Do you live in a big house? HAHAHAHA!!!
When is your birthday? June 14
Who is your best friend? My hubby.
THE LETTER C:
What's your favorite candy? Belgian chocolate truffles
Who's your crush? Er... Jack Sparrow
When was the last time you cried? I'm not sure.
THE LETTER D:
Do you daydream? Often
What's your favorite kind of dog? Black lab/ golden retriever mix
What day of the week is it? Sunday
THE LETTER E:
How do you like your eggs? poached on toast
Have you ever been in the emergency room? yeah
What's the easiest thing ever to do? Let my blood circulate. (Sometimes breathing isn't so easy)
THE LETTER F:
Have you ever flown in a plane? Yes
Do you use fly swatters? No
Have you ever used a foghorn? No
THE LETTER G:
Do you chew gum? rarely
Are you a giver or a taker? Taker, but I'm trying to become a giver
Do you like gummy candies? some, but the worms gross me out.
THE LETTER H:
How are you? Coughy
What's your height? 5'6"
What color is your hair? Auburn
THE LETTER I:
What's your favorite ice cream? I've been craving Baskin Robins' chocolate peanut butter for the last few months.
Have you ever ice skated? Yes
Would you live in an igloo? If I had no other choice
THE LETTER J:
What's your favorite jelly bean? Cinnamon.
Have you ever heard a really hilarious joke? Yes.
Do you wear jewelry? Besides my wedding ring? Only rarely.
THE LETTER K:
Who do you want to kill? *shrugs* No one, really.
Do you want kids? No, but I have one. (And I love him dearly... most of the time.)
Where did you have kindergarten? Bear Creek Elementary
THE LETTER L:
Are you laid back? Sometimes.
Do you lie? Rarely (I try to avoid doing things I'm terrible at.)
Have you ever been to London? Yes.
THE LETTER M:
What's your favorite movie? Currently it's "Strictly Ballroom."
Do you still watch Disney movies? Yes, but not often anymore.
What type of music you listen to? classical, classic rock, and Peter Gabriel (he's deserving of his own category, just as John Cusak is deserving of his own genre.)
THE LETTER N:
Do you have a nickname? No.
Favorite number? *shrug* 537
Do you prefer night over day? Sometimes.
THE LETTER O:
What’s your one wish? to be secure and feel it.
Are you an only child? No.
Do you wish this was over? I dunno
THE LETTER P:
What one fear are you most paranoid about? becoming poor.
Do you love the color pink? despite evidence to the contrary, no.
Are you a perfectionist? Till my patience runs out, yes.
THE LETTER Q:
Are you quick to judge people? Yes, but I usually don't remember what those judgements are.
Do you wish you were a Queen? Sometimes.
Have you ever rode a quad? No
THE LETTER R:
Do you think you're always right? Hell NO!
Do you watch reality TV? Not only no, but hell no (i'll borrow kel's answer here)
What's a good reason to cry? Death of someone close to me, release of emotions
LETTER S:
Do you prefer sun or rain? Depends where I am, but usually rain
Do you like snow? Yes, as long as it isn't black.
What's your favorite season? Autumn
THE LETTER T:
What time is it? 6:10pm
What time did you wake up? 6:45
When was the last time you slept in a tent? As of mid March, 7 years.
THE LETTER U:
Do you own an umbrella? Two or three
Can you ride a unicycle? no
Have you ever said someone was ugly? probably, though I also probably wasn't talking about physical attributes.
THE LETTER V:
What’s the worst veggie? Kale
Where do you want to go on vacation? somewhere
Where was your last family vacation to? Colorado
THE LETTER W:
What's your worst habit? Laziness
Where do you live? New Hampshire
Who's your hero? Eh, for the occasion I'll say MLK jr. He's one of them, certainly.
THE LETTER X:
Have you ever had an x-ray? yeah. I shudder to think how much radiation my body contains.
Have you seen the x-games? No
Do you own a xylophone? No.
THE LETTER Y:
Do you like the color yellow? Yes.
What year were you born in? 1978
What’s one thing you yearn for? good health
THE LETTER Z:
What’s your zodiac sign? Gemini
Do you believe in the zodiac? only for entertainment value
What's your favorite zoo animal? Peacocks
THE LETTER A:
Are you available? I'll look at my schedule
What is your age? 20 something (I'm losing track)
What annoys you? kids *sigh*
THE LETTER B:
Do you live in a big house? HAHAHAHA!!!
When is your birthday? June 14
Who is your best friend? My hubby.
THE LETTER C:
What's your favorite candy? Belgian chocolate truffles
Who's your crush? Er... Jack Sparrow
When was the last time you cried? I'm not sure.
THE LETTER D:
Do you daydream? Often
What's your favorite kind of dog? Black lab/ golden retriever mix
What day of the week is it? Sunday
THE LETTER E:
How do you like your eggs? poached on toast
Have you ever been in the emergency room? yeah
What's the easiest thing ever to do? Let my blood circulate. (Sometimes breathing isn't so easy)
THE LETTER F:
Have you ever flown in a plane? Yes
Do you use fly swatters? No
Have you ever used a foghorn? No
THE LETTER G:
Do you chew gum? rarely
Are you a giver or a taker? Taker, but I'm trying to become a giver
Do you like gummy candies? some, but the worms gross me out.
THE LETTER H:
How are you? Coughy
What's your height? 5'6"
What color is your hair? Auburn
THE LETTER I:
What's your favorite ice cream? I've been craving Baskin Robins' chocolate peanut butter for the last few months.
Have you ever ice skated? Yes
Would you live in an igloo? If I had no other choice
THE LETTER J:
What's your favorite jelly bean? Cinnamon.
Have you ever heard a really hilarious joke? Yes.
Do you wear jewelry? Besides my wedding ring? Only rarely.
THE LETTER K:
Who do you want to kill? *shrugs* No one, really.
Do you want kids? No, but I have one. (And I love him dearly... most of the time.)
Where did you have kindergarten? Bear Creek Elementary
THE LETTER L:
Are you laid back? Sometimes.
Do you lie? Rarely (I try to avoid doing things I'm terrible at.)
Have you ever been to London? Yes.
THE LETTER M:
What's your favorite movie? Currently it's "Strictly Ballroom."
Do you still watch Disney movies? Yes, but not often anymore.
What type of music you listen to? classical, classic rock, and Peter Gabriel (he's deserving of his own category, just as John Cusak is deserving of his own genre.)
THE LETTER N:
Do you have a nickname? No.
Favorite number? *shrug* 537
Do you prefer night over day? Sometimes.
THE LETTER O:
What’s your one wish? to be secure and feel it.
Are you an only child? No.
Do you wish this was over? I dunno
THE LETTER P:
What one fear are you most paranoid about? becoming poor.
Do you love the color pink? despite evidence to the contrary, no.
Are you a perfectionist? Till my patience runs out, yes.
THE LETTER Q:
Are you quick to judge people? Yes, but I usually don't remember what those judgements are.
Do you wish you were a Queen? Sometimes.
Have you ever rode a quad? No
THE LETTER R:
Do you think you're always right? Hell NO!
Do you watch reality TV? Not only no, but hell no (i'll borrow kel's answer here)
What's a good reason to cry? Death of someone close to me, release of emotions
LETTER S:
Do you prefer sun or rain? Depends where I am, but usually rain
Do you like snow? Yes, as long as it isn't black.
What's your favorite season? Autumn
THE LETTER T:
What time is it? 6:10pm
What time did you wake up? 6:45
When was the last time you slept in a tent? As of mid March, 7 years.
THE LETTER U:
Do you own an umbrella? Two or three
Can you ride a unicycle? no
Have you ever said someone was ugly? probably, though I also probably wasn't talking about physical attributes.
THE LETTER V:
What’s the worst veggie? Kale
Where do you want to go on vacation? somewhere
Where was your last family vacation to? Colorado
THE LETTER W:
What's your worst habit? Laziness
Where do you live? New Hampshire
Who's your hero? Eh, for the occasion I'll say MLK jr. He's one of them, certainly.
THE LETTER X:
Have you ever had an x-ray? yeah. I shudder to think how much radiation my body contains.
Have you seen the x-games? No
Do you own a xylophone? No.
THE LETTER Y:
Do you like the color yellow? Yes.
What year were you born in? 1978
What’s one thing you yearn for? good health
THE LETTER Z:
What’s your zodiac sign? Gemini
Do you believe in the zodiac? only for entertainment value
What's your favorite zoo animal? Peacocks
Once upon a recent time, in a land that seems far, far away, there lives an ordinary man, his ordinary wife and their small, rather adorable, but ordinary, son.
Life is just that. There are few occurrences that warrant any note at all, though that isn't necessarily a bad thing for the small family. In the morning the son is the first to wake, and, as is the wont of all happy children, his first thought upon waking is to share the joy of the new day with his parents.
“Hi, Daddy! Hi, Momma!” the boy cries every morning, drawing his parents from sleep's blissful arms.
Most days, Momma sleepily rolls over and lets Daddy drag himself out of bed. She falls back to sleep to his weary “(Yawn) G'd morning (yawn) my son,” relieving her twinging conscience with the knowledge that the breakfast hour is one of the few times for the two to interact.
When, an hour or so later, the father leaves for work, Momma drags herself out of bed to tend to the little one, knowing that leaving him alone is not a good idea, if only for their carpet's sake.
The day rolls by, each day with its own routine. One day she will be eluding the laundry, the next she will be shirking the shopping. Each day has its own tasks, and somehow, despite the mother's best efforts to avoid them, they somehow get done all the same. Mostly.
Meanwhile, every new day the adorable little boy explores his world. One day he discovers that he can finally open the wondrous door to the cold treats, with “appa juse” and “paroni” and that wonderful white substance that fills his “ah bot.” In this big box, he is constantly discovering many wonderful things, such as those glorious brown objects that break open to reveal golden yellow gloppy orbs. He discovers his inner artist with those orbs as he blends a dozen (Momma hopes) of them on the floor.
A veritable treasure trove of delights beyond the breakable awaits him in the big box, each with its own little container. He can only open a few at this point, but he knows that, just like the big box itself that was too big and too heavy to open only weeks ago, he will soon be big enough and strong enough to open those containers and discover the treasures within.
The adorable little boy also explores the sounds around him, finding a new word and, so delighted with himself, repeats it to his mother, again and again and again. And again.
“Bess u momma!” he says when she coughs.
“Thank you, sweetie,” the mother replies with affection.
“Bess u Momma!” he says five seconds later, with no provocation. Momma smiles at him for being such a polite little boy. “Bess u momma! Bess u momma! Bess u mommee! Bess u momma! Bess u momma! Bess u momma! Bess u momma, mommee!” he continues on and on.
“BESS YOU MOMMA!” he insists, when he realizes that his mother is tuning him out.
The mother dutifully smiles and thanks him again, and sighs when he finally stops that refrain. For now. She knows the next refrain is not far away, however, so she relishes the silence while it's there.
Later in the day, he will discover the joys of stripping down to nothing, and then putting his pants back on, sans diaper. Most of the time his mother knows what he's done, as usually he has made a production of going to the bathroom to undress so that he could “use” the potty. Sometimes, however, she will only find out when one pant leg becomes wet. Usually when she's carrying him.
Most days he is happy. Some days he is not. All days he demands more and more of his mommy's time and attention, and then he starts refusing to nap. His mother, a loner by nature who by age nine had been asking her parents to go out to dinner by themselves so she could have some time by herself, finds this a wee bit difficult. Sometimes she even gets cross.
But then the day ends, and, eventually, the father comes home, usually just in time.
“Daddy!” the boy cries happily, running to the door. Momma lets out a big sigh of relief, and suddenly the boy is adorable once more in her eyes.
“Sweetie,” she says with a smile when her husband comes over to kiss her hello, “thank God you're home.”
~(Not even close to) The End
---
And that is why I haven't written. Poor excuse, I know, but there you have it. It gets boring. That little story, although unfortunately accurate, is, perhaps, a little simplistic, but mostly the “memorable” things have just faded away into the photo files that clutter our computer.
The big event this year (or last, rather) was our trip to Colorado for Thanksgiving. If you didn't see us, it was probably because we lost our address book sometime this year. Numbers, addresses... all gone. Well, it was either that or because time and especially energy were really, really low this time 'round.
It was not the most pleasant trip I've ever taken. It might actually rank as one of the worst. Not because of the people. It was wonderful to see those we saw! But, first, before we left New England, we found out that Babe doesn't like to travel anymore. He just wanted to go home. That didn't change the entire trip. (We were that family from hell on all the flights, not to mention the five hours at Logan where Babe nearly screamed himself sick in the crowded waiting area full of frustrated travelers.)
Second, I got sick. I'm still sick, actually. I haven't been to choir for more than two months now because whenever my voice comes back enough to try and sing, it decides it's been overused and goes on hiatus again. (I'm slightly bitter about this. I've never had laryngitis this badly before, and I'm sick of coughing, no pun intended.)
And third, DH was sick as well. And then Babe got sick. And... well, I now have VERY good reasons to say that we will NOT be traveling this year if we can help it at all. I won't be, anyway.
But that was just two weeks. The other fifty were really quite good. In June I finally got out to see the apple orchards in bloom, and it really is as beautiful as L.M. Montgomery writes it to be. True, this isn't P.E.I., but maybe one of these days we'll get up there and can compare their beauty to our own.
The flooding that happened here in May (?) thankfully did not creep into our basement. After having the basement flood three times since we've lived here, twice when it was not wet out, I was very grateful. Our neighbors, however, were not so fortunate. Soaked carpet and padding were sticking out of trash cans all around town, despite the city's rules.
In July we finally got to the beach. Granted, we drove down to South Shore to do so, but that's because our friends Mat and Monica moved down there in the spring. They live about two blocks from the beach. How could we resist the invitation? Babe was fun to watch as he decided whether he liked those waves or not, and then discovered the joys of sand (and how much fun it is to run across other people's towels... thank goodness he's so cute!), and then, it being the Northeast and even the sandy beaches are rocky, discovered lots and lots of rocks to pound against one another.
The newest memory is Christmas, when my parents came out for three very short weeks. Babe adored having them around. He definitely preferred my dad, as he is a boy's boy, but he sure did like having “doe dee” (cold tea) with Nana. He still asks for them, (Nana, Papa, and “doe dee”) though in the last few days he's started saying, “Papa away! Nana away!”
In all, it's been one of those years that DH and I look at each other quizzically and say, “Is it over already?” The only evidence that time has passed is Babe's growth and development, which is considerable, but, at the same time, forgettable.
And, in case you're wondering, DH is pretty much the same as when I last wrote. His life is mostly spent at his job doing the same things over and over again. And he is still a wonderful dad and sure does love Babe. And Babe is still a Daddy's boy.
Oh. The other thing that was noteworthy was my first solo show (sorta-kinda) out here. I hung up about ten works in the Fellowship Gallery of the church for December. I managed to paint three new works for it, two of which I'm very pleased with. I'm still compiling everything onto one site, and still (ever “still”) trying to get myself in gear to get a professional site going, but in the meantime, I'm trying to sort out my fan art from my real art and become more professional-like. We'll see.
Anyway, the site with the fewer, but newer, works on it is: ecsart dot deviantart dot com
More of my “real” stuff will be added soon. Really.
Anyway, till next time, whenever that is, we hope your life is full of happiness and light.
Life is just that. There are few occurrences that warrant any note at all, though that isn't necessarily a bad thing for the small family. In the morning the son is the first to wake, and, as is the wont of all happy children, his first thought upon waking is to share the joy of the new day with his parents.
“Hi, Daddy! Hi, Momma!” the boy cries every morning, drawing his parents from sleep's blissful arms.
Most days, Momma sleepily rolls over and lets Daddy drag himself out of bed. She falls back to sleep to his weary “(Yawn) G'd morning (yawn) my son,” relieving her twinging conscience with the knowledge that the breakfast hour is one of the few times for the two to interact.
When, an hour or so later, the father leaves for work, Momma drags herself out of bed to tend to the little one, knowing that leaving him alone is not a good idea, if only for their carpet's sake.
The day rolls by, each day with its own routine. One day she will be eluding the laundry, the next she will be shirking the shopping. Each day has its own tasks, and somehow, despite the mother's best efforts to avoid them, they somehow get done all the same. Mostly.
Meanwhile, every new day the adorable little boy explores his world. One day he discovers that he can finally open the wondrous door to the cold treats, with “appa juse” and “paroni” and that wonderful white substance that fills his “ah bot.” In this big box, he is constantly discovering many wonderful things, such as those glorious brown objects that break open to reveal golden yellow gloppy orbs. He discovers his inner artist with those orbs as he blends a dozen (Momma hopes) of them on the floor.
A veritable treasure trove of delights beyond the breakable awaits him in the big box, each with its own little container. He can only open a few at this point, but he knows that, just like the big box itself that was too big and too heavy to open only weeks ago, he will soon be big enough and strong enough to open those containers and discover the treasures within.
The adorable little boy also explores the sounds around him, finding a new word and, so delighted with himself, repeats it to his mother, again and again and again. And again.
“Bess u momma!” he says when she coughs.
“Thank you, sweetie,” the mother replies with affection.
“Bess u Momma!” he says five seconds later, with no provocation. Momma smiles at him for being such a polite little boy. “Bess u momma! Bess u momma! Bess u mommee! Bess u momma! Bess u momma! Bess u momma! Bess u momma, mommee!” he continues on and on.
“BESS YOU MOMMA!” he insists, when he realizes that his mother is tuning him out.
The mother dutifully smiles and thanks him again, and sighs when he finally stops that refrain. For now. She knows the next refrain is not far away, however, so she relishes the silence while it's there.
Later in the day, he will discover the joys of stripping down to nothing, and then putting his pants back on, sans diaper. Most of the time his mother knows what he's done, as usually he has made a production of going to the bathroom to undress so that he could “use” the potty. Sometimes, however, she will only find out when one pant leg becomes wet. Usually when she's carrying him.
Most days he is happy. Some days he is not. All days he demands more and more of his mommy's time and attention, and then he starts refusing to nap. His mother, a loner by nature who by age nine had been asking her parents to go out to dinner by themselves so she could have some time by herself, finds this a wee bit difficult. Sometimes she even gets cross.
But then the day ends, and, eventually, the father comes home, usually just in time.
“Daddy!” the boy cries happily, running to the door. Momma lets out a big sigh of relief, and suddenly the boy is adorable once more in her eyes.
“Sweetie,” she says with a smile when her husband comes over to kiss her hello, “thank God you're home.”
~(Not even close to) The End
---
And that is why I haven't written. Poor excuse, I know, but there you have it. It gets boring. That little story, although unfortunately accurate, is, perhaps, a little simplistic, but mostly the “memorable” things have just faded away into the photo files that clutter our computer.
The big event this year (or last, rather) was our trip to Colorado for Thanksgiving. If you didn't see us, it was probably because we lost our address book sometime this year. Numbers, addresses... all gone. Well, it was either that or because time and especially energy were really, really low this time 'round.
It was not the most pleasant trip I've ever taken. It might actually rank as one of the worst. Not because of the people. It was wonderful to see those we saw! But, first, before we left New England, we found out that Babe doesn't like to travel anymore. He just wanted to go home. That didn't change the entire trip. (We were that family from hell on all the flights, not to mention the five hours at Logan where Babe nearly screamed himself sick in the crowded waiting area full of frustrated travelers.)
Second, I got sick. I'm still sick, actually. I haven't been to choir for more than two months now because whenever my voice comes back enough to try and sing, it decides it's been overused and goes on hiatus again. (I'm slightly bitter about this. I've never had laryngitis this badly before, and I'm sick of coughing, no pun intended.)
And third, DH was sick as well. And then Babe got sick. And... well, I now have VERY good reasons to say that we will NOT be traveling this year if we can help it at all. I won't be, anyway.
But that was just two weeks. The other fifty were really quite good. In June I finally got out to see the apple orchards in bloom, and it really is as beautiful as L.M. Montgomery writes it to be. True, this isn't P.E.I., but maybe one of these days we'll get up there and can compare their beauty to our own.
The flooding that happened here in May (?) thankfully did not creep into our basement. After having the basement flood three times since we've lived here, twice when it was not wet out, I was very grateful. Our neighbors, however, were not so fortunate. Soaked carpet and padding were sticking out of trash cans all around town, despite the city's rules.
In July we finally got to the beach. Granted, we drove down to South Shore to do so, but that's because our friends Mat and Monica moved down there in the spring. They live about two blocks from the beach. How could we resist the invitation? Babe was fun to watch as he decided whether he liked those waves or not, and then discovered the joys of sand (and how much fun it is to run across other people's towels... thank goodness he's so cute!), and then, it being the Northeast and even the sandy beaches are rocky, discovered lots and lots of rocks to pound against one another.
The newest memory is Christmas, when my parents came out for three very short weeks. Babe adored having them around. He definitely preferred my dad, as he is a boy's boy, but he sure did like having “doe dee” (cold tea) with Nana. He still asks for them, (Nana, Papa, and “doe dee”) though in the last few days he's started saying, “Papa away! Nana away!”
In all, it's been one of those years that DH and I look at each other quizzically and say, “Is it over already?” The only evidence that time has passed is Babe's growth and development, which is considerable, but, at the same time, forgettable.
And, in case you're wondering, DH is pretty much the same as when I last wrote. His life is mostly spent at his job doing the same things over and over again. And he is still a wonderful dad and sure does love Babe. And Babe is still a Daddy's boy.
Oh. The other thing that was noteworthy was my first solo show (sorta-kinda) out here. I hung up about ten works in the Fellowship Gallery of the church for December. I managed to paint three new works for it, two of which I'm very pleased with. I'm still compiling everything onto one site, and still (ever “still”) trying to get myself in gear to get a professional site going, but in the meantime, I'm trying to sort out my fan art from my real art and become more professional-like. We'll see.
Anyway, the site with the fewer, but newer, works on it is: ecsart dot deviantart dot com
More of my “real” stuff will be added soon. Really.
Anyway, till next time, whenever that is, we hope your life is full of happiness and light.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-01-15 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-15 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-15 02:55 pm (UTC)It probably seems like a long time away, but he will be off to school one of these days, giving you somewhat of a break.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-15 03:43 pm (UTC)But now... oh, this is so much fun. /sarcasm.
School... *sigh* A mother's dream... ;-)