Many thanks to Squelly at Dreamer's Day for honoring me with this award. This is a good one, and no wonder it was honored to Squelly, because it's about being authentic and true, no fuss, no beating around the bush. I always like to go where I can get "honest scrap" and Dreamer's Day is one of those places -- with a twist, because her scrap is beautiful and faith-filled, too.
Here are the rules:
In accepting this award, I need to do the following: 1) Say thanks and give a link to the presenter of the award. 2) Share "ten honest things" about myself. 3) Present this award to 7 others whose blogs I find brilliant in content and/or design, or those who have encouraged me. 4) Tell those 7 people that they've been awarded HONEST SCRAP and inform them of these guidelines in receiving it.
OK, so here are my ten honest scraps:
1) I love people and love to socialize, but it makes me a nervous wreck, especially if it involves being in a group of more than three people or so. I think it's partly the residual effect of moving around so much when we were growing up (we were Navy) and the constant trauma of always being the new kid at school. (=sigh= Ain't I pittifullll?) But, I also worry that I talk too much. Instead of being shy and quiet when I'm nervous, I'm one of those that jibber jabbers uncontrollably. Like my grandmother used to say, it's like my tongue is hinged at both ends.
2) My hair is naturally curly, but this is not its natural color. (Check the roots for the real thing.)
3) Though I can get up pretty early and be somewhat functional, I'm pretty crabby until I've gotten my second cup of coffee. You're best off not messin' with me much until after 10 am.
4) I have on more than one occasion purposely on-accident not gotten the coffee made before the gang has gotten out the door in the morning. So I could have the whole pot to myself.
5) Since I'm coming clean here, I have to admit, that, though I'm the mother of a house-full of music connaisseurs and I'd like to say I'm a high-brow music sorta gal, I really cannot stand orchestral music. Hate it. I'd rather listen to Shania Twain than Johann Sebastian (and if you know how I feel about country music, you know that's something...).
6) The only real reason I was hired to be the editor-in-chief for my college paper was because I was the only one who knew how to run all the machinery at the paper -- and because I tipped back in my chair during the final interview. I was told later that the Dean thought my absent-minded chair tipping was a sign that authority figures didn't make me nervous, and he thought that would be an asset in that job. Silly man.
7) I stole a Snicker's bar from the not-so-secret candy stash in the cellar the other day -- if you can call it stealing, since I'm the Mom and technically it belongs to me. But, I zipped past the kids, candybar hidden discreetly in my apron pocket, then slipped in my room, quietly closed the door, and ate it as fast as I could before anyone caught me at it. I felt like a thief. Can you see how I'm covered with guilt? (You've gotta read about this scientific study linking Snickers theft and crime... Yikes!)
8) I did steal a frog, though, when I was in fifth grade.
There was an old house near the river on the Naval base where we lived that had been turned into the Officers' Wives Club headquarters. But all of us kids called it the "haunted house" because it was old and lonely, sitting like it did on the edge of the Officers' housing, its white paint peeling under moss-covered trees. As you can imagine, our little group of friends liked to tell ghost stories about that house and we were obsessed about getting into it. One summer day, after the ladies must have had a meeting or something, we found one of the downstairs windows open a crack, and seeing our chance, scrambled up on each other's shoulders to get in. The long-awaited day had come at last; we'd finally get our chance to explore.
And we weren't disappointed. It was a neat, spooky, old house, and very exciting in a forbidden fruit kind of way to sneak through, but we were nervous as cats the whole time we were in there, and, though none of us would admit it to the others, we couldn't get out fast enough. So when we heard a car that sounded like it was coming close to the driveway, everyone jumped and ran like the dickens for the window. In the upstairs room where I was at that instant, the Officers' Wives had a table full of little ceramic figures that they must have made for a fund raiser or something, and in a split-second decision made by my greedy little hand and not my brain, I think, I snatched up a little green frog as I passed by, stuck it in my pocket, and continued down to high-tail it out of the house with my friends.
But, then, of course, I was consumed with guilt. I went to Confession about it, and, though Father didn't say it was necessary, I did try to get back into the house to return the little frog, but the windows were never left open again. (The Wives must have known someone had been in there...) So, what are ya gonna do?
I kept that frog in a philodrendon plant I had for the longest time, a symbol of my wreckless youth, but it was eventually lost in one of our moves. And then, I grew up, and spent a good many summer Saturdays at garage sales, where a few years ago, I found a little frog that was the twin of that stolen frog. Of course I had to buy it. It's on my windowsill right now, looking up prayerfully at the statue of my kitchen Madonna -- and when I look at it there, it all comes back: a lingering twinge of guilt, yes indeed, but, in the creaky staidness of my middle age, I also remember with a sort of fondness the innocent mischief and the nervous excitement of a hot, humid afternoon, sneaking around in a haunted house by a river in South Carolina.
Oh, to be a kid again.
9) And now for a different kind of guilt. And a different kind of coming clean... I am the guilty owner of barns and bins and closets and corners of unfinished craft projects that I now admit I may never actually find a use for. The hopeful, creative miser of my youth is starting to give way to the realistic resolve of an over-cluttered middle age. (Over-cluttered literally and figuratively, I think.) It's not that I still don't think it'd be really neat to refinish that old china hutch taking up space out in the quanset hut, or that I don't think there really may be some good use for all the little bits and scraps of wood and fabric and geegaws I've hung on to over the past twenty years; it's all honest scrap, so to speak (heehee). But, I think I may have reached the point where I'm ready to get rid of it. There's too much of it to find what I'm looking for, anyway. Maybe if I leave the quanset hut door open, some crazed craft burglar will back her truck up in the middle of the night and take it all away?
Because if I have to go through it all to give away or sell, I just know the Mrs. Thrifty in me will overwhelm Mrs. Efficiency and I'll keep more than I get rid of. It's a disease.
10) And, last of all -- I really do enjoy doing these kinds of meme things, as much as I enjoy reading them from others. They're a sort of indulgence. I think we get so caught up in our work-a-day identities, that we forget about the nitty gritty, silly little facts that make us who we are. I love learning about my internet and e-mail friends through these little exercises, and it's nice, too, getting reaquainted with myself -- as Lisa, instead of Mommy -- every once in a while.
Now, to hand out my own awards!
(Ahem!) I would like to pass along the Honest Scrap Award to the following bloggers, all charming, gracious, and 100% authentic:
1) Kim at It's a Dog and Pony Show (though she may be too busy unpacking at her new home to see this for a while...)
2) Bia at La Dolce Vita
3) Laura at Catholic Teacher Musings (though she won't know about the honor until after she gets back from Hawaii -- poor girl. &;o)
4) Cathy at A Bit of the Blarney
5) Sara at My Wonderful Life
6) Linda at Linda Lu's BTD
7) Marcy at Blessings Each Day
* Looks like my little frog is gazing longingly at that Snickers bar, doesn't it? That was accidental, but somehow appropriate, I'm thinking...