Forget the Oscar for Best Abscess.
TLH has been honored with the Beautiful Blogger award by Breathe at Horsecentric.
Thank you, so very much! We’re in some amazing company, go check it out.
When I say “we” I mean me, Daisy, Bella, Lilly, Molly, etc, and all the horses, but also all of you who lurk, read, and comment, who are as much a part of this blog as the rest of us. This is your award too.
The award come with some conditions, which I will do my best to fulfill, even though none of them involve sugar in any form.
- Link back to the blog bestowing the honor.
- Say 7 things about me (Ha! It does not say they must be true…I love loopholes.)
- Pass the award on to 15 blogs that I find beautiful
Hmm. 7 things I haven’t already blabbed about mentioned.
- Nothing comes close to the joy I feel when Micah calls me The Geeze (short for geezer).
- I call him a Geezeling, and tell him to pay attention, since he’s still in the baby stages of Geezerhood.
- I love that Lee Lee still likes her back rubbed at night and wants to hear fantastical stories starring her, Micah, and her friends.
- When I first met Shaun, who is not an animal person, I had 7 rabbits in my (very clean) kitchen. Not only was I not cooking them for dinner, I was making dinner for them. That she stayed through the rabbits, cats, dog, and parrots was amazing. That she stayed through my “introducing” her to the wild garter snake in the garden (no forewarning, just pushing back some foliage: Look! It’s Manfred!) is a testament to the power of love. That she drew the line at my “Mouse Relocation Program” (You kill rodents, you don’t catch and release them to become someone else’s problem.) and I acquiesced is also a testament to the power of love.
- I lied about discontinuing the Snail Relocation Program. I just started throwing them over the fence into the field behind our house. I figured it would take weeks for them to make their way back. Fortunately we moved before Shaun noticed. Snail problem solved.
- My religious beliefs: there are donut people and there are wheat grass juice people. It won’t kill either of us to try a bite and a sip.
- When I was three, my older brothers draped their large, sleepy, king snake over my neck and shoulders, and convinced me I needed to go into the house (where my great-aunt Gertrude was holding my mother hostage under the auspices of a ‘visit’.) to show Mom my new mink stole. I had already been forced out of dungarees and a T-shirt for GAG’s visit, and was subsequently re-wallpapered with crinoline, lace socks, mary janes, and white gloves. Even at three, I understood how horrified GAG would be, and how happy it would make my mother to get out of yet another lecture on proper house keeping. I cheerfully skipped into the house: Morton curling his tail under my left arm, and his neck wrapped around my right wrist. “Look at my new mink stole!” I said, and waved his head at great-aunt Gertrude. Morton obliged by waking up and flicking his tongue out at her curiously. GAG leapt up onto the Davenport in her high heels, screaming. I pretended to be confused. My mother shooed me out, my brothers greeted me with lifted eyebrows, and I smiled big in answer. Shortly after, we heard the engine of great-aunt Gertrude’s Pontiac turn over. My mother scolded me half-heartedly: what was I thinking, bringing Morton into the house? I could have given aunt Gertrude a heart attack! To punish us, my mother took us all out for ice cream.
Dang. These are all true. Missed the loophole by a mile.
I will be giving out the award soon, to other deserving blogs. Stay tuned!