Six Things

So Nikki gave me a stupid blog award. I think she did it just to aggravate me.  Anyway, the people that get "tagged" have to write six random things about themselves. That's a fabulous idea for interesting people, but not so much for me. The problem is, there isn't much people don't know about me. I'm pretty much an open book. If you get to know me just a little bit, I'll tell you my life story. So sorry for those of you that have had to sit through it...

I can't help it; I like to talk. I'll pretty much talk to anyone who will listen. I think that's why I have a hard time doing a regular blog update. Blank screens are not all that engaging...

Anyway, I'm gonna give this "six things" a try; sorry if you've already heard some of them before...

1.  I have a scar at the top of my nose, next to my left eye. It's a war wound from one of the many battles with my "little" brother. Now you're gonna get the story... I was in the 8th grade. I think I was 13, he was 11.  Growing up, we always had 4-H livestock animals, sheep in particular. One chilly Saturday morning, we were out feeding and fighting, as usual, over who had to do what. I was still the bigger of us at that point, and I frequently used that advantage.  Somewhere in the process of pouring feed into troughs I kicked him. I have no idea why. He left the pen and proceeded to throw the feed can at me. Now, the feed can was an old, rusty Folgers coffee can. One of the smaller ones I think. My brother played baseball, so he had a decent aim. Not that day. Because of the height of the fence, he had to throw the can up and over. I naturally ducked to miss it, but I heard the can hit the top of the fence. Feeling sure that I was safe, I looked up. And it hit me right between the eyes. If there had been witnesses, I'm sure they would have been laughing. It had to look like some kind of cartoon. When I finally got back on my feet and moved my hands from my face, he went to screaming like a little girl. Apparently I had blood everywhere. He ran back to the house so fast he left a trail of dust. I was in no such hurry. I knew what fate awaited us when Mama saw what happened. 8 am on a Saturday morning was not the best time to inform that a trip to the emergency room was necessary. The rest is history. Only four stitches and an embarrassing story because I started it all.

2.  I am ridiculously naive when it comes to the fate of my animals.  There are an immense amount of stories that were told to me instead of the truth. For example; I believed the first horse we had ran away to the circus. She was a very old gray mare that my Daddy had for some time. I don't really remember much about her except that one day she wasn't there. Of course the only logical thing to tell a small child is that she ran away. I believed it for years. My favorite, however, occurred when I was eight. I had just completed my first year in the 4-H livestock program. (my best stories always revolve around sheep)  For those of you that don't know, a majority of these project animals are raised for market purposes and are sold at the end of the last show. I didn't know that then. My sweet, sweet Pawpaw got me out of the barn before the animals were loaded on trucks. I was completely distraught over having to leave my first lambs, but he reassured me that they would be fine. My sweet little lambs were going to be with a man in Arkansas who needed sheep to eat the weeds out of cotton fields. I've since learned that I am not the only granddaugther to fall for this...

3.  I ran over my best friend's brand new car.  This is Emily's favorite story to tell about me. Contrary to popular belief, Emily and I were major nerds back in the day. I had just finally started attending weekend social events about the time she started driving. She just had to come out and show off the car, and I just had to take her to one of the "get-togethers" and show her what we were missing. In all the excitement that is a girl's first night to "go out", I forgot where she was parked. As I was backing out the driveway and asking her which perfume was better, I backed into her car. I thought her dad would never forgive me. But, not to be outdone, Emily decided she had to put her own mark on it the next night. She managed to go up an embankment, take out a barbed wire fence, and let out some cows. That car never stood a chance. By the time we got done with it, the rear view mirror was literally strung up with neon green yarn. I wish I had a picture. 

Ok, there's three... I'll think about another three for tomorrow. Please don't laugh at me too much...