Well, Cami tagged me this time, so I'd better get a'crackin' or she'll be plotting revenge. ;o)
Here's the scoop:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
#1 . . . check.
Now, 7 facts. About me. These are the kinds of things that come to mind when I'm doing other stuff . . . like dishes, or laundry, or running errands. Not when I'm sitting in front of a compose window. So, we'll see where we end up.
1. I'm a farmer's daughter. We had few animals, as my dad raised commercial grain crops mostly. The animals were usually efforts by my mom to feed us better, or earn a little money, like the drop calves: Big Mac and Whopper. I got up with her every morning and helped to mix the calf formula, and remember how rough and tough the tops of their baby mouths felt against my fingers as I taught them how to drink out of a bucket. (You put your fingers in the calf's mouth and it starts in like you're a pacifier. Then you slowly lower your hand into the bucket, and after a startle, the calf goes for it like gangbusters. After a few feedings like that, they get the hang of it. I can still smell the warm, sort of powdery smell of their formula.
2. I'm insatiably curious. The internet is a wonderful and dangerous tool for me. I could spend literally days and days just reading over at WikiPedia, or perusing various and sundry forums and Yahoo groups. I love learning new skills and techniques, and ways to improve my life and the lives of those around me (at least the lives of those around me who will let me). My maternal grandmother has the same kind of mind; I remember her telling me the story of how she tried and tried to get her stepmother to change the way she had grandma do certain things (like put all the un-rinsed, dirty cloth diapers into a huge pail all week long, and then wash them all on Friday), but to no avail. (Grandma wanted to at least rinse the diapers out before putting them in the pail, but great-grandma would have nothing to do with it. Grandma just had to deal with it for the seven children that came after her.)
3. I love language. Reading. Writing. Linguistic surprises. Turns of phrase. Listening to the way people speak, and recognizing them by their voices alone. Using what little I know of other languages (French, Latin, and a bit more Spanish) to see additional depth of meaning in my native discourse. Or, maybe I just love communication . . . because I love music in much the same way. I love to listen to other musicians who strive for excellence, and who deeply love what they're doing as they play or sing. As one of my favorite quotes points out though, music has one definite advantage over language: "Art inspires us, literature persuades us, but only music takes us by surprise."
4. I have four children, three of which were born at home with a midwife (and that's the plan for #5 as well). Now that I've got some mothering skills under my belt, I think I could have a baby at a hospital and not have it completely foul up my ability to bond with and understand my baby . . . but that first one was a complete disaster. I was never a baby person--and while most of the other girls I knew flocked to and nearly fought over whatever baby was in the vicinity, I stayed back. It wasn't that I didn't like babies . . . I just didn't want to invite yet more rejection by the crowd, (plenty of that at school), and I didn't really know what to do with one. I'm ashamed to say that it really didn't dawn on me until much, much later that babies come with all of the emotions and feelings that bigger people have--and finally getting that little detail nailed down and incorporated into my consciousness was life-changing.
5. I've been a pack rat for as long as I can remember, but I'm reforming. With skills from my paternal grandmother, I've managed to hoard far, far more schtuff than any woman my age should reasonably have. (And a lot of it is just junk. Stuff I'll never use. Stuff I don't love. Stuff that sucks the life force out of me and clutters up my basement.) Vern is not a pack rat, but he manages to love me anyway. ;o) I'm working valiantly on letting go, and so far have been really successful mentally. I've even gone so far as to tell Vern he can throw away anything he wants to besides journals and pictures. (He's tasked with going through any box he wants to get rid of and make sure there aren't any of those in it. Otherwise, it's fair game for the dump or thrift store.)
6. There are very few things in this world that I truly dislike. Close-mindedness is one. Living life with one's brain asleep is another. Violence. Stereotyping. Bigotry. War. Oh, and select colors with yellow undertones. (My apologies to Steph . . . they depress me.)
7. I love pink! ;o)
#2 . . . check.
Hmmmm . . . who to tag?
CCR in MA
Since I'm still two short, I'm going to tag all of the participants in the Baby A Baby swap. (It's hard to single out just two, and there are only 11 of us total, so it's not toooo many, I think. ;o) I think it'd be a fun thing to post to the swap blog, if TopHat doesn't mind. ;o)
#3 . . . check.
#4 . . . check.
Let the games begin!