I've been awarded!

I’ve been nominated for the Liebster Blog Award.

I’ve been nominated by Cowboys and Crossbones, a blogger who impresses me with her smarty-pants irony and her multiple talents and–okay–I’m also impressed because she’s pretty. Plus, she’s cool in a way I could never hope to be, like a rockstar. And  despite everything I’ve ever said about rockstars, I can’t deny that I’m deep down wowed whenever I get noticed by one.

Like that time Steven Tyler talked to me when both he and I happened to be waiting for prescriptions at a tiny, locally-owned  drug store in New Hampshire. I admit it;  I felt important.

My former opinion of blog award nominations was: “It’s like a multilevel marketing scheme, a viral way for bloggers to promote blogging.” But that was then.

This is now and I’ve been awarded. And despite knowing that the award doesn’t really mean anything–it makes me feel groovy to be nominated. This is fun!

I feel like I’m the shy wallflower at a high school dance. The quarterback of the football team, (who looks like John Travolta) drags me out on the dance floor to do the hustle and he smiles at  me as if he actually LIKES me (oops, now you know how old and decades-away-from-cool I am). Even while I know it doesn’t really mean anything, I dance along because–this is FUN!

Here’s how the blogging-award game goes:

Accepting the award is like appearing before Queen Victoria in the throne room. I must curtsy upon entrance, curtsy again when I get to the middle of the room, and then curtsy before the throne. That’s a lot of bending over–which leads to a ridiculously long blog; so I’m dividing it into 3 different blogs; one for each curtsy.

For my first curtsy: I must tell five random facts about myself.

1) I’m capable of changing my mind when I feel flattered.

2) I can play the piano pretty well because I worked diligently at it for twenty years. But I lack that certain something which makes a person into a natural musician and I’ll never be one. My brother got that gene.

3) I never play practical jokes. Then about once a decade, something comes over me and because I never play practical jokes, people really fall for mine.

4) When I was in 8th grade, I went to summer camp and told everyone my name was Randi. For a whole week, they all called me Randi. The strange thing is, Randi was a stellar softball player. But Tracy never could get over her fear of the ball.

5) I’m never bored. My ability to pretend to be other people and my ability to change my mind both work to prevent boredom.

Now, because I’m starting to get bored with this and I assume you must be getting bored, too, and because I make it a habit to never be bored, I’m going to save the rest of this kow-towing silliness for another post, which you can read later if you want to. Meanwhile, you can ask yourself,

How far are you willing to go for a little flattery?

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