Oh my! Finally my slippers and I are getting the recognition they deserve!
In this season of scandalous awards programs, I am HONORED to have been given this truly wonderful Stylish Blogger Award. For those of you who are new, you can see that my incredible fashion sense — from head to slipper — has endured since my London blogging days, despite the weight of slipper fashion trends bearing down on us all.
(mmm. whatever that was I just scraped off my t-shirt and ate, it was pretty good.)
Actually, I am so happy to have gotten the notice from awesomesauce (yes, I said it) Amanda at “Me, My Dogs, My Life” that she’d pass the award on to me. I met her, along with some other amazing bloggers during reverb10, and I am so grateful to have joined that community of madly wonderful writers.
Here are the rules for acceptance, which, sadly, do not involve sleeping with Robert Downey Jr. and/or poking Mel Gibson with a stick through prison bars.
1. Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Award 5 recently discovered great bloggers.
4. Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award.
There is a button that goes with the award. Click on mine and copy the properties into your own blog.
(Who is “S”? That’s Shannon at “Thumbin’ My Way” who is also friggin hilarioso.)
So my winners for bloggers who would look “Equally if not More Stylish in My Slippers” and ALSO deserve the Stylish Blogger Award are:
I have OTHERS that I adore, but the guidelines were to choose NEW bloggers that I had met. These are people I have recently fallen in love with.
And now to share 7 things about me. Lists are for the weak!
- I usually panic first. Panic first, holler a tiny bit, point at people and say “What did you do???” then simmer down and sort out a good and decent solution.
- I can drive a 5-speed, manual transmission, but I canNOT drive of the left side of the road (blew a tire on the curb within 3 minutes on one of those A roads in England).
- I’ve been up in a hot air balloon, over the Barossa Valley. The sun came up there the same as here.
- I speak Italian, but only when I am in Italy.
- If you don’t like me very much, it’s because you probably aren’t comfortable in your own skin. I am one of those people that makes people look at themselves in a very naked sort of way. Then I poke them. Poke. Poke. Poke.
- I have worked from the time I was 12: first a paper route, then cleaning a dental lab, then at Bishop’s Buffet wearing a hair net and slicing pie, then cleaning toilets as a janitor. Then bartending and writing and editing and serving tacos and more of that, all the way up until now. It paid my way through college, grad school, all my travelling and single life, and allowed me to buy a new car, my own house, and buy our tickets to London. I even paid for a summer in Italy, without charging up a credit card.
- When I was 36, I took skiing lessons in the Italian Alps for three days, while Colin and our friends skied the black diamonds. Every day I got on put on those stupid boots and walked to the bunny slope alone to meet up with that young Italian instructor. I hated it, but I did it. Because I was there, in that damn beautiful skiing town and I was going to EARN the apres ski drink.