Lucky Sevens

Thought for the day:  Words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world.   Buddha

Well, I don't know if seven is actually lucky or not, but it's a pretty darned good number for me today, because this particular seven means I'm not scraping the bottom of my mind to come up with a topic for today's post. The delightful Ruby of Blabbin' Grammy has tapped me on the shoulder again, passed on a couple of awards, and provided me with a made-to-order seven-pronged topic. All I have to do is tell you seven things you don't already know about me, and then pass the challenge on to three other bloggers. Here are the awards:

Pretty cool, huh? (Now, you're all hoping I pick YOU for these awards, right?)

Most bloggers simply write seven brief statements to fulfill the "rules of the game," and then go on to the "real" subject of their post for the day, and that's fine, but I'm gonna cheat. Instead of simply spitting them out and going on to something else, I'm gonna expand on them a bit, and let that serve as today's subject(s). (See? Lucky!)

So, here we go.

1.  The poor wasp was trapped in a mud puddle, alive, but just barely, and his infrequent movements were feeble and ineffective. So I did what seemed like a great idea to my 8-year-old mind. Scooped him out of the water, cradled him in the palm of my hand, and gently blew on him to dry his fragile wings. Worked, too. Before he flew away, I'd like to say he thanked me somehow. I'd like to say he did an intricate little butt-wiggling wasp dance just for me, but he actually did exactly what wasps are wont to do. The little ingrate stung me. It didn't make me regret helping him, but it did serve to deliver me an early warning: Do whatever good you can in life, but be prepared to receive the occasional sting.

2. As part of my job in medical research, I used to operate on mice. How cool is that? We had tiny wooden operating tables with an eye bolt on each corner, so we could secure all four limbs. Ether was administered from a soaked swatch of gauze inside of a tiny beaker, which rested over the mouse's snout. Really cool. Also used to make periodic trips to the local abatoir to pick up the occasional bucket of cow eyes on ice. ("Why, yes, I'll have them to go, thank you ...") And to the morgue to pick up various specimens. (No wonder I have such a weird sense of humor!)

3. I used to be an avid bowler, and at one time, bowled on three leagues every week, two handicapped, and one scratch. Best game I ever rolled was a 261, but I blew the game by opening in the tenth frame. Only needed a mediocre score in the third game that night to break my first 600 series, but I didn't do it. Barely managed to break a hundred. That's me ...  Mrs. Consistent. One interesting lesson I gleaned from bowling, though. My average was always higher in the scratch league than it was in the handicapped ones. Perhaps it's human nature to rise to the level of one's competition? Or maybe if we expect more of ourselves, we're more likely to deliver.

4. For my fortieth birthday, a bunch of our fabulous friends pooled their money to treat me to a glamour make-over with Liz Claibourne. Yeah, I know, right? What awesome friends! Anyway, this make-over included a hair cut and style, massage, manicure, facial and make-up, the whole works. Even got a fancy schmancy lunch, complete with a flower and glass of wine. Talk about pampered! When the overhaul was complete, I barely recognized myself. The areas above my eyes and upper lip were blood red and sore as all get-out, thanks to the oh-so-delightful waxing Ms. Claibourne recommended. (Never, never, NEVER again!) Looked like the make-up had been smeared on with a trowel, but hey! It was different! The hairdo was a bit fussier than my usual  run-a-comb-through-it-and-go style, and it was as stiff and hard as a motorcycle helmet. But again, different. Before I left, the people who'd worked so hard on me all day wanted to know where I was going that night to show off my new look. To tell the truth, I'm not sure they believed me, but what can I say? It was bowling night.

5. A friend and I broke my parents' bed by jumping on it. She (the chicken!) headed for the back door, and I headed to the basement to find some nails. The monsters I hammered into that bed frame were four inches long or better, and I used a mess of them, too. Fixed that bed but good. But unfortunately ...  not for long. In the middle of the night, a loud KABOOM came from my parents' bedroom. When the cursing started, I didn't exactly wet myself, but I did lay in my bed with eyes wide and heart pounding, saying my we-who-are-to-die prayers. But ...  nothing happened. Even when they discovered those ridiculously over-sized nails, they never ever suspected me. Years later, I finally told them the truth. I was married, had a kid, and figured the statute of limitations should have me in the clear by then. Besides, I was moving seven hundred miles away the next day.

6. I took two belly dancing courses. I know. Shocking, right? The first turned out to be more of an exercise class than anything, but it was fun. The instructor claimed that in the next semester's advanced class, we'd make costumes, learn an actual routine, and then perform at the nursing home. Didn't happen. It was another fun class, but it was merely a continuation of the first. No costumes. No routine. And no nursing home, which, in retrospect, is probably a very good thing.

7. Our church group DID visit the local nursing home. The idea was to throw them a St. Patty's Day party, and I was drafted to serve as the entertainment. No, I didn't jiggle my belly at them. I played the guitar and sang,  mostly Irish songs, but also a liberal sprinkling of old-time tunes and hymns, as well. While I was singing one of the old hymns, I couldn't help but notice the gentleman who was sitting there with his eyes half-closed, and tears streaming down his face. Concerned that I'd upset him somehow, I spoke with him later. Turned out he was a retired minister, and hadn't heard that hymn in many, many years. So, his tears were those of joy and remembrance. (which is more than I can say if I'd been performing my klutzy version of a belly dance!)

Well, there ya have it. And now,  I'd like to pass the two lovely awards, along with the request to tell us seven things about themselves, to Delores, Julie, and Skippy The ball's in your court, ladies!

How about the rest of you? If you don't have any comments to make about MY seven secrets, how about sharing at least one thing about yourself?

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.