On Being an Embarrassing Relative
So, Laume (BeachTreasure) and Amy (Live, Learn, Knit) have nominated me for the Thinking Blogger thing that’s going around. And I am embarrassed. Because if any of their blog readers were to have followed their links over here, thinking, “Why, I must discover this person two such thoughtful people say is thoughtful,” well…they would have found me engaging in chocolate witch laughs and talking about Peeps. (Quentin Tarantino in Peeps, though, people–what was I supposed to do? Not let you know?)
You know how when you try to set a relative up with a friend for a blind date and the relative ends up embarrassing you to death? I’m probably that embarrassing relative for these thoughtful bloggers passing on the award. They try to be nice, hoping I’ll play along, and for once manage to comport myself well in public and…I go around giving wicked witch laughs instead.
And there’s no improvement to my thinkingness in sight, BECAUSE, in other news, I really, really think I should enter the Peeps contest next year. Would that doom me forever in all eyes? Because I have a vision! France in Peeps! I could do it, I could.
I have no idea who to pass the Thinking Blogger award on to, because I think every single person I know has already been nominated. I’m pretty sure nobody nominated me until they were scraping the bottom of the barrel. Amy even said: “Well, umm….she thinks about chocolate. That counts, doesn’t it?”
But, if you haven’t been nominated and I visit your blog and leave comments, then consider yourself nominated. Because, you know, I’m busy what with all this chocolate and writing books and dealing with publishing things and working full time and raising a baby and chocolate…so. If I visit your blog, it’s because I consider it a worthwhile moment of my day. Thank you. Thank you for sharing those thoughts and photos and art of yours and making this world a little richer or maybe just a little more aware of its richness.
To finish on a thought or at least on great art, I will, in honor of National Poetry Month and Amy’s poetry initiative, offer this line from E.E. Cummings’:
(these leaves are Thingish with moondrool
[Can anyone see in that line what I love about this poet?]