Friday Farrago... (and an Award!)...

Happy Friday, dear bloggy friends! The sun is finally shining in my little corner of Pigsknuckle... the redolence of spring is in the air (and by 'redolence of spring' I mean 'stink of manure')... and the ever-looked-forward-to weekend is just about here. Whoo hoo!

Before I move on to other farrago-ish topics ('farrago' is my word of the day), let me get back to that manure thing for a sec. You know I lived in 'the city' for most of my adult life, right? I like 'the city'. I do. But when my marriage ended, I felt it best to leave 'the city' and return to Pigsknuckle, mostly to be near family, as familial support (dysfunctional though it may be) is important to single parents... but also because I remembered 'the country' as being rather a pleasant place. It was quiet... bucolic... serene, even. You know what I didn't remember, though? Well, besides gun-totin'-camouflage-wearin'-dead-deer-hangin'-out-the-back-of-the-truck season, that is... The smell. I didn't remember the smell. The country stinks, people. And you know what it smells like? Shit... that's what it smells like. Now that I'm back, I completely remember how the stench affected me when I was younger (and by 'affected' I mean 'gagged'). My dad used to say, "Take deep breaths... it goes away faster." I'd always reply, "No it doesn't... you just die quicker." I was always kidding but last year in Pigsknuckle, an entire family was killed when they succumbed to the build-up of methane gas from the manure tank on their farm. You know where methane gas comes from? Yup. Shit. And cow farts. The incident was really tragic but I have to (ashamedly) admit, the idea of being killed by cow farts... well... I'm gonna stop there 'cause I don't want you to hate me when you find out I laughed. At first. Then I was really upset because it was awful. I'm not heartless, honest. I just have the mentality of an 11-year-old boy when it comes to the topic of farts. And poop. And intestinal gas. Pathetic, I know. But have you ever heard a cow fart? I have. It's funny, people. Disgusting but seriously funny.

Anyway, 'the country' smells. That's really all I wanted to say.

Moving on...

I got an award!! It came from the ever-so-lovely Michelle over at The Truth As I Know It. Thank you, Michelle! It made me happy, as awards are wont to do, and it cracked me up, too...

The blogger who receives The Zombie Chicken Award believes in the Tao of the Zombie Chicken... excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least five other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by not choosing wisely or not choosing at all.

Now, while I'm loathe to risk the wrath of the zombie anythings, I implemented a personal rule about passing on awards a while ago and I only pass them on to one person at a time. It usually requires me to break the award rules but hey, I'm a rebel (and lazy). So, zombie chickens, come get me if you must (please don't), but this award goes to the one and only...

Blognut

I know she'll disagree but I think she's excellence, grace, and persistence personified and I'd brave a million zombie chickens to read her blog. OK, I'm totally lying. You guys know I have a death-fear of fowl, right? Zombie fowl would put me over the edge. But that doesn't take away from how fabulous she is. I've met some pretty amazing people here in Blogland but Blognut's extra-special. She's my other half (not in a spousal sort of way... she has one of those those already and I prefer to marry boys). We have a creepy amount of stuff in common, right down the 'rambing' part of our blog titles and the Blogger templates we chose (and we're both clearly too technically challenged to customize them like you bright people out there who have pretty, adorable, and classy blog backgrounds). We've even betrothed our talky 9-year-olds, so someday we'll be related! Whoo hoo! So, if you're not reading her stuff, do it. You'll love her like I do. But you can't have her, 'cause she's mine.

Moving on again... I got my swim team coaching assignment for the summer... I get to work with my little sinkers again. When Ryan started swimming last year (on the same team I swam on when I was in high school), I decided I wanted to help out, as I had to sit through practices and meets anyway. Because I'm not certified and because I have that whole 'mom' vibe going on, I got assigned to the littlest swimmers. They don't compete but the plan is to get them in the water and comfortable with team procedures, so when they're a little older, they're ready to go. My kids are between 4 and 6 years old and to-die-for cute (I did a post last summer that'll tell you just how cute... and pervy!) and I'm so excited to get them again this year. They call me 'Coach' but I mostly just keep them from drowning and give them loads of hugs and cheers... it's a pretty cool job, really (except for the part where my 44-year-old self has to be seen in my bathing suit every evening by, like, 100 people, along with the other coaches... who are all 20-something and have perfect 20-something bodies... sigh) and I feel privileged to be able to do it. You'll be hearing about my little guppies in the days to come...

Well, that's about it, I guess. And quite enough, eh? I hope you all have a great weekend! Mine will be relatively quiet, I think. I do have what will likely be my last non-date with the Republican tomorrow. He's being deployed to Iraq a couple of months early (which he's actually pretty excited about... go figure). I'll miss him but I guess I should spend some time thinking about why I've chosen to spend scarce social hours with someone (albeit a kind and generous someone) whose ideology is so far from mine it isn't funny (it's quite animus at times, actually, and not in that exciting, 'opposites attract' sort of way), rather than put myself out there (again) and meet someone with whom I might actually be able to develop a long-term real-dating relationship. I'm not sure I really want to get into that sort of analysis, though. Not without my therapist on retainer.

Anyway, have a good one!! Later, 'gators! xo