Popped my strawberry.

Yes Martha, I did make it according to your specifications. Whaddya mean the sugar's not supposed to be detectable?

So, that's the first one. My first award. I'm a little flattered to be chosen by Jax as a recipient of the TISB award. The catch is that I've got to complete two tasks: Name five guilty pleasures and nominate three other blogs to receive the award.

This'll be really fun.

In no particular order, the current ones are:

Guilty Pleasure #5 = considering not participating in this.
   To explain: I wasn't sure how to do this and since I've chosen to no longer get in my own way, I found the means to figure it out.  Wasn't hard at ALL turns out!

Guilty Pleasure #4 = eating my husband's Snickers® bars.
    This is really a self-destructive thing... so much so, that... I'm not going to explain. Use your brilliant imaginations to create a teleplay in the TV that is your mind's eye.

Guilty Pleasure #3 = telling my kid that my farts are really spiders barking.
     One day, as I was doing Guilty Pleasure #1 (don't skip ahead just yet), I came across a thread on reddit.com about the BEST TROLL DAD STORY EVAH (not 'evah' really, redditors are cooler than that.) Anyway, amidst my tears of mirth and happy happy joy joy, I came across one redditor's story that listed among several other things the fact that his dad's farts were spiders barking. I decided that I needed to be trollmom. And later that day, could've been the next day, I called my dad. I couldn't remember anything my dad did to troll me and had a slight hope he would remember. As expected, because...though I love my dad, he can't remember much of his life...or mine either for that matter. So no luck with stories from him. And also, surprisingly to me, no trollGrandpa stories. His dad didn't really do that to him either. So, on my dad's side, either we have no inclination to torment youngsters or that said youngsters are born with a highly developed bullshit detector and thus the older generation declined to bother triggering said detector. Now, my mom... for the longest time, she had me going about how I, as a baby, would stick to walls after being thrown from across the room.

And Santa... well, I had historical evidence to back me up, so I believed until I was 14. And then I think mom got tired of trying to keep things magical when I'd wake her up 30 minutes after she went to bed... It'd be 3, 4 am and I'd wake up everybody to go open the damn stockings and presents. My poor mom. I love you mom! But it was just to get back at you for the throwing lie!


Guilty Pleasure #2 = popping zits.
    Haters gonna hate. Poppers gonna pop. Another self destructive thing rooted in my control issues. I laugh as I write this because it is so.

Guilty Pleasure #1 = forgoing constructive activities around the house in order to read or watch movies all day long.
     Oh, the rug needs vacuumed, there's laundry that needs to be put up, washed, hung up to dry and put up when dry. There's a sink and counter with dishes and sundry items to be washed. Dinner to be made, daughter to play with, husband to attend. A floor to sweep, a yard to weed. Recycling to stow, dusting to flow.

Hmm....best to stop now. I feel a bit Shel Silversteinish.
    

And now, the nominees....

Pearl Tigress
She has my same name and I've enjoyed what she writes, when she writes.
Babbling Brooke
I'm impressed by this woman and her work with the Haitians.
G.R.I.P
I like his message. Music has always been a big part of my life... not creating it, just listening. I can't remember a morning growing up where there wasn't some good piece of tralalalala in the house while we're getting ready to leave the house. Anyways, I think this young man has a lot of light and music in him.