Blogger Helen from Bonding with Lizards nominated me for an 'Awe-Summ award' and Sandi K nominated me for a Kreativ (sic) Blogger award. No hefty cash prizes or bars of gold accompanied the honours unfortunately and really it's just a sneaky way of forcing me to write a meme but it also makes me smile with pride.
Both allow me to to blow my own trumpet in that I have to mention seven things that I'm awesome at - spelling not included.
When I sit here and think about it I realise that it's much harder than I thought. Sure I'm not the biggest loser in the land, but I aint a champion either and there's loads of things that I can claim to do competently (ie fold up the washing, make sure that bottle tops don't get flung into the recyling bin and never buy milk that's less than two days away from the 'best before date') but to be awesome is another level entirely.
The Collins Concise dictionary defines awesome as 'inspiring or displaying awe.' Okaaaay, so we'll look a bit further up the column to awe: 'overwhelming wonder, respect or dread.' Hmm, let's leave the seven dread bits until the very end, shall we?
So let's get the ball rolling on this anal gazing malarkey.
1) Hedonistic Hypocrisy. Picture my morning today, dear reader. The dog and I have just spent a couple of hours roaming the neighbourhood inserting flyers into letterboxes regarding the aims and exploits of our venerable local residents association. The cold winter sun is out and we both feel energised, happy and..... I'll be honest, a bit pleased with ourselves. I see what can only be kindly described as Michelen Man's girlfriend in a pale pink velvet tracksuit shoe-horning herself into her car and think, "She should be walking like us." I then see a Medibank Private employee sucking down on a cigarette so intently her eyes bulge and think, "She should be inhaling the fresh air, like us." Annoyingly justifiable, no?
Less than half an hour later, I'm at San Churro enjoying this as my lunch:
The only savoury thing there is the salt sprinkled on top of the peanut butter truffle and yet I still managed to look disdainfully at two spotty teenagers sharing just a plate of the churros (the phallic-shaped donut sticks) and think, "Oh that's not going to help their skin," before hoeing right into this like a blind basset hound lapping up porridge.
And then, what did I do? Popped into Rebel Sport to get myself a new pair of running shoes.
The other six things I'm good - nay, awesome at are:
2) Working by myself to a deadline. Having a mere four metre commute to work from the kitchen in one direction and the bedroom in the other means that public transport or car crashes can't be blamed for delays and non-performance. Instead my only way of procrastinating actually benefits the family: the house becomes very tidy. No dog fur clinging to the felt squares under the chair legs, no toothpaste splats on the mirror and Milly's butt nuggets are (mostly) removed from anywhere that human feet are likely to tread.
.....which sort of leads me to Awesome skill number 3) Wielding a Chux Superwipe. It's become second nature to have a damp cloth within an arm's length. In fact, Sapphire's first recognisable form of imitation as a nine month old was to cling to the edge of our ancient coffee table, whip off her bib and use it to wipe over the surface. Sure, the magazines went flying and my tea got spilled but she was learning about the importance of having a surface that is less like velcro and more like a top you'd be willing to rest your elbows on.
Now I'm struggling and lucky for me, Sapphire's just walked in. So sweetie-darling-sweetie, what's your old ma awesome at?
"Look Mum I'm really busting to go to the toilet and I only came in here to ask if I could have a muesli bar because I'm absolutely starving and the sausage sizzle before the school's junior string concert tonight isn't until 5:30 and I can't wait that long, so----" She left the room, but not before calling out, "So I'll have a think while I'm on the loo, OK?"
Er, fine. Thanks.
Bless her little heart because she did bounce back several minutes later, still reeking of the loo spray that she squirts liberally around the room so that the next occupant enters a blinding lavender fog, and came up with these ones:
4) "You run really fast." I'm OK, but I'm not that good. Sure the distance isn't shabby (eight kilometres) but at five minutes each I'm not troubling any Olympian - or para-Olympian for that matter. "No but I've seen you and it looks fast and you never give up."
I've been running now for nearly nine years and hope that I can continue for many more to come. I'm proud of getting out there even when I don't feel like it, it's too cold; my shins ache; my shoes rub; my toe nails get bashed, turn black and fall off and my bra cuts into my rib cage and makes me bleed. This has happened more than once but the last time I was wearing a black one so it didn't have the same, um, 'pictorial piquancy' shall we say.
5) "You're actually quite good at singing." WHAT? NO-ONE has ever said that to me before and I sing only when I'm happy and think that I'm alone or safely out of earshot. "I hear you sometimes just singing away to yourself in the kitchen when you think I've got my earphones on or are too far away in my room and you sound quite good." She sees me puff up with pride as I begin to deeply inhale and prepare to burst into ----and says hastily, "But not all the time." Shuddering, she repeats it, "Oh no, not all the time, no." Ah.
6) "You're able to turn boring, everyday things into something I want to hear about and read about." Oh dear, but there's a fair bit in my blog that I don't want you to read or hear or know about just yet. The farting themes alone are a bit too 'out there' for you and.... "No but when you said how you ran up to the stage to get the actor to stop kissing your Mum in the play I laughed a lot. You do swear a bit though and didn't Grandpa tell you - and you tell me all the time now too - that using rude words just means you don't have any imagination to think of anything more clever to say?" Er, yes. So now I'm not sure if this quality now qualifies me as 'awesome' or just rude and lazy.
7) "You're very Motherly."
This one warranted a fair bit of further discussion, revamping and clarification about all the times I've embarassed her by talking to the high school kids on the way to her school in the morning and picking up papers on our way back home and her criticism of my sartorial selections and rushing over to pat any dog that walks within a 200 metre radius of us but this next line she said absolutely word for word: "You do all the things that good mums have to do, but you're like my best friend because you do also things that you want to do for me and we have a lot of fun."
Oh bugger it; I didn't think this Awesome shindig was supposed to leave me in tears....!