Anyway, I digress, thanks to Jenn for this most auspicious award, and without further ado, I am supposed to list 10 squirrely facts about myself. SO here goes:
1. I could eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and fooking dinner. I love cereal, and my husband once called me, and I quote: "A cereal-eating bitch." This after I finished off a box of Corn Pops that he'd had his eye on.
2. I used to never want to drink wine. Then I had a bottle of Kenwood Cabernet on a trip to the Poconos with my husband and it was gooooooood. THEN I was a wine snob, turning up my nose at any wine that had a screw top. Until I tried Coriole, which was GOOOOOOOD and I love it EVEN THOUGH it has a screw top. You live and learn.
3. I used to be meticulous about paying bills and balancing my checkbook. Then I had children. Now I'm lucky if I can even FIND my checkbook. And if it balances, it's only through divine intervention. Bills get paid when they get paid. Take THAT Citibank!
4. I miss seeing my mom, only living 20 minutes away from her. Now I live 4 hours away and I hate being so far from her.
5. I still hold out hope that the Phillies will SOMEHOW turn it around in the last 48 games and win them all to make it to the post season. Ever the optimist, so shoot me.
6. Because I AM a glutton for punishment, I'm doing another Tough Mudder. This time it'll be the week after I run the Freedoms Run here in town. And yes, I do have rocks in my head.
7. One of the first things my husband ever said to me was 'My colostomy bag must've leaked'. And I cracked up and fell in love with him at that very second.
8. If you're wondering about number 7, he didn't REALLY have a colostomy bag.
9. I hate coming up with Squirrely facts about myself.
10. I love making other people squirm, so here are my choices for the Squirrely Blogger Award. Have fun! And go check these folks out, tell 'em Snarky sent ya.
Evil Joy Speaks
Mommy, for Real
The Sadder but Wiser Girl
My Life As Lucille
Martinis and Minivans
Pocketful of Joules
What I Really Meant to Say Was...
Peski Pippi
Motherhood: A Descent Into Madness
There Must Be A Third Option
