Today's excerpt for From the Book Friday is sharing my LibraryThing. With my goals of organizaation this year, I decided I better get a handle on my bookshelves, piles, boxes, and general mess of books. More fiction will be added; however, all my knitting books are represented for your perusal. :) See random books from my shelves on the widget to the ummm....right side of the screen.
Today's theme from "No One Cares What You Had for Lunch" is to say thanks. This afternoon, I'd like to extend a big thank you to Bandit. After spending several hours working from home, he quietly demanded that I spend time with him. Sometimes, when life has me all stressed, it's too easy to forget to sit back, relax, and spend time with loved ones.
This week's From the Book Friday prompts me to fess up to one of my shortcomings. (No, this post will not be about my relative lack of height...)
One of my biggest shortcomings is my inability to keep any vegetation alive. Apart from the funky pink mold noodles I grew in the fridge over the course of two months. No signs of a green thumb can be found on me, not even a green pinky or toe. I affectionately blame my routine killing of plants in my care on my Thumb of Death.
New hearty poinsettias, 20 year old cacti, and most of the lawn have all fallen victim to the Thumb of Death. It changes its preferred manner of attack on a random basis - killing it with kindness, neglect, overwatering, incorrect sunlight. I vowed my freshman year of college to keep a poinsettia alive beyond the month of December. I named it George and even took it home over Christmas vacation with me. (Looking back, I really needed a pet of some sort through college.) One sunny post-Christmas day, I set George on the enclosed backporch to catch some rays. And forgot about him until hours later. George was frozen, damn.
Again, I'm tempting fate with a mountain laurell my mom brought back from Pennsylvania in November. It's transplanted to our front lawn area (taking the spot of Bandit's beloved dead pee bush) and is hibernating in a flake of hay and a burlap sack. Hiding it is, from my dreaded thumb of plant doom!
A few months ago, I bought and read the book No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog by Margaret Mason. Its chock-full with teasers to write insightful, coherent blog posts that (hopefully!) are enjoyable for readers.
This week's topic will delve into my irrational fears.
In all honesty, I could make an entire weekly blog feature on my irrational fears. I'd rather not get all Freudian, so I'll stick with the humorous and odd ones.
One of my fears that impacts me the most is my fear of house fires. My grandparents lost their home in the 70s while they were vacationing in Florida to a house fire. As a result, I grew up with a healthy respect for fires and was used to a routine of ensuring heaters were clear, water heaters were turned off, amongst others. As the old saying goes, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."
Here is where the paranoia starts for me. Every morning, I use a hair iron to straighten my hard to manage curly hair. The iron rests on my wooden vanity when it's not immediately in use. Correction, my slightly scorched vanity from a few days in 2004 when I was very distracted and forgot to turn the hair iron off. After I saw the stripes of burnt brown vanity top, I freaked. Now, every morning before I drive to work, go to bed, or leave the house unattended, I have to check that my hair iron is off. I even check it when I haven't turned it on that day. Guess I'm a bit OCD, at least it gives Hubs a good chuckle.
