A Muskadillo First

I admit it. I don't get blog awards. I mean that in both senses of the statement: I neither understand the point of them, nor do I receive them. Except very rarely—like this one that NCS gave me:


When I was awarded this, I was, 1) relieved that I didn't have to make a speech; 2) feelin' warm 'n' fuzzy because I just got an award; and 3) confused. I mean, what was I supposed DO with it? Print it and frame it? Or put it on a t-shirt with the words "I WON THIS!!!" added on the bottom, and if anyone even so much as glanced at my shirt, I could strut about and talk to myself—very loudly—about how cool my blog was 'cause I got an award? And did the award come with a cash prize or anything? (I'm pretty sure it doesn't, because I've been watching the mailbox like a hawk, and so far no cash prize has shown up.) I still don't know about this awards stuff.

However, not knowing about something is hardly a deterrent to blogging about it.

So I decided to create—and award—an award. Just to spread some warm fuzzies around.

(And one thing I decided that was going to be unique about this award: darn it, it was going to have a trophy that went along with it that the recipient could hold and look at, grow misty-eyed over, and possibly bury in the back yard so no one else could steal it.)

The recipient of this Muskadillo First, of this incredibly non-prestigious and pointless award is:

...(drumroll)...






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....(more drumming)....









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....BOOM! (Some bored sniper in the audience just took out the drummer hoping to make the awards ceremony GET ON WITH IT ALREADY)








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....*awkward and frightened silence*....









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Melissa of Mejojac's Memos!

That's right! Melissa, you are officially awarded this:



...quite literally, too. Ask her. She now has a frog of gold sitting on top of her computer.

And here's a small one that may fit in her sidebar (if she's in to that sort of thing):


What about anyone reading this who did not just receive an award? Doesn't NOT winning an award make you feel...well, a little loser-y? Well, HAVE NO FEAR! Another aspect of the Muskadillo Awards Program is that for every award given, there will also be a consolation prize that anyone who reads this is entitled to.

So, here you go, all you other peoples. Here is your award:


Yeah, it won't fit in your sidebar.

Deal with it.

Wisdom from a Lawn Mower Manual

The other day I got a real treat: I got to mow the lawn.

The best part of the whole thing, though (aside from the sweat and staining some old sneakers green), was perusing through the lawn mower manual. I mean—wow! What fun! I was really excited just to get out there and mow some grass, but that manual was like finding the toy in the Crackerjack box, like finding a $20 bill in the pocket of a jacket you haven't worn in years, like finding a severed finger in your Egg McMuffin!

Um, okay. Not that last one.

But the manual was an interesting read. It had everything! Look at this:

It was fraught with peril!

...there was a great deal of suspense and ACTION...I mean, c'mon, SEVERED FINGERS, people!
There was even some guy who was shooting...something...out of his eyes (I think he was a superhero)...

...and the conclusion was quite shocking!
(So is the suspense killing you? Are you just dying to know if any fingers were severed, or if the eye protection actually saved anybody from the toxic fumes and explosions? And...I probably shouldn't mention this, but the butler didn't do it.)

Of course, it did have its faults. There were one or two unbearably stupid plot twists (yeah—who didn't see that one coming? "STOP" means stop? Really? And why do I need a reminder to read the manual if I'll only ever see it while I'm reading the manual?)
...and there was one part of the plot with genuine WITH CHEESE?!?* factor:

(I mean, really. How are you going to get frostbite from a lawn mower?)

But overall, I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. Let me leave you with two of my most favorite quotes from this engrossing read—quotes of such scintillating, brilliant wisdom—that they quite literally took my breath away:

And yet another pearl of wisdom, shimmering on the shores of truth:


"I'd highly recommend this to anyone who is planning to mow a lawn anytime in their future. Gripping and extraordinary!" —Made-Up Big-City Chronicle

*Most people would call this the WTF factor, but I find using "WTF" a little crude (it means "weasels that fart," and I'm tired of jokes about the passing of gas and jokes that disrespect the weasel community). Someone once mentioned that the equivalent to WTF in Spanish is "con queso," which, if I know Spanish, translates back into English as "with cheese." And so, there you have it. Another convoluted wynne-ism.

Finished!!

Yeah, so we're in Spokane, and we've been here—oh, I don't know. Two and a half weeks now? And, honestly, I really should've posted a week or more ago (this house is VERY different from the last: all I had to do was unpack boxes. No scrubbing, painting, repairing, installing, or crying. It's a nice house.)

So what have I been doing instead of blogging?

There was a certain book that was released right in the middle of our move, and it took me awhile to get things settled enough where I felt like I could read, and then a little while longer to wait for the book to arrive—and to re-read the first three books in the series while I was waiting...WELL, I'M FINISHED NOW!

And, man, what a relief to be finished!

And what book was it?

Oh, I'm sure you can guess.

Here's a hint:


That's right! Breaking Wind—er—Dawn (sorry, that's how my husband has been referring to it, and he's started to rub off on me).

So, what did I think? Hmm. Well, here are a few things that crossed my mind while I was reading:

I knew it!

Finally!

Huh?

Didn't see that coming.

Eww. Really wish I hadn't been eating lunch when I read that. Gross.

Well, if she can't blush, I certainly can. Sheesh.

Okay, I did see that one coming.

Yeah, and that, too.

Sure, sure.

So much for my reaction. Mostly, I'm just glad the whole thing is over so I can stop obsessing. It's exhausting to obsess, my husband laughs at me, and the dishes don't get done*.

*Who am I kidding? They don't get done regardless.