Guess I'm it.

Got tagged by three peeps (geez already) so here are the rules:

1.Post the rules on your blog
2.Write 6 random things about yourself
3.Tag 6 people at the end of your post
4.If you are tagged, just do it, and pass the tag along!


Why is it hard to be random on queue when normally it's so effortless?

1. To get my morning coffee I favor a little drive-thru coffee/photo hut/kiosk-thingy place. I like the fact that this particular company has two of these little drive-thru hut-a-mi-jigs (one on each end of town) for my half-caf Americano drinking convenience and another near work in case I need another fix mid-day.

I also like this company's product. They never burn their beans (unlike some coffee chains) and decaf, haf-caf, fully leaded, sour pumpkin latte, coffee straight up, Mexican mocha blended with whip and extra cinnamon... it all tastes good and is, every time, no matter who the barista, pulled to my exacting standards.

The one thing I cannot stand is that this company favors hiring cutesy, fully coiffed at 5am, college co-eds whose hopped-up on espresso perkiness lends itself to all manner of annoying questions while stamping my punch card, taking my cash, and pulling my joe. Do they honestly care what I'm doing that day, what my plans for the weekend are, or where I'm going? I don't want to talk, but to give my order. Do they think by showing interest they're going to get a tip? When they're charging me $2.00 a cup? Ha! Unlikely.

What I long for is to be waited on by some tossled forty something that looks as tired as I feel and doesn't talk, but merely grunts when I hand them my card and cash. I think the one coffee-hut on the edge of town is picking up on my preferences. The other day I was greeted with a simple: "half-caf or decaf?" "Decaf please," I said. To which I was immediately handed a waiting cup. Sweet child. I gave her a fiver and told her to keep the change.


2. I recently found a wonderful hair stylist. I walked in and asked her to cut my hair because it was beginning to look like a giant mushroom was sitting on my head. When she asked what I wanted done I explained that I am chic deficient and have no clue what hair style would look best on me. I figured since she was the professional and had cute hair herself she could figure it out. I told her I had great faith in her abilities, so much so I didn't even want to watch as she cut and primped.

She ran a few ideas past me, I shrugged cluelessly, and she jumped right into the task like a real trooper. The end result: I have pretty cute, non-mushroomy hair, and a new stylist that understands my fashion blindness and like a sissors weilding labrador is willing to help me navigate the world of hair.


3. I eschew most things girly, but am helpless before stinkum water. I can spend hours in a store smelling perfume, bubble bath, and lotions. Go figure.


4. When I was 10 or so I once told my father that I wished that my name was Sandy or Bobbi, Beth I thought was too old-fashioned. He told me that when I was born my mother wanted to name me Gina Antoinette, to which he pointed out that we were neither Italian nor French.

Gina means queen. Antoinette means priceless. Priceless Queen? Yeah, my ego needs that. I'm pretty sure Bobbi means stripper, but only if spelled with an i and Sandy means uncomfortable. Elizabeth means consecrated or sworn to God, Beth means house or home, Leigh, in the shelter of, so: sheltering home sworn to God. It's no Maximus Decimus, but I can live with it.

Lesson learned: be thankful for what you got.

Note to self: send Dad something nice.


5. I take deep joy in cleaning my home. I wish I got to do it more. There are few things more satisfying then walking barefoot across a freshly scrubbed floor. That said, it's a toss up which is currently filthier: my home, office, or car.


6. I have killed Pumpkin-Palooza this year. Between Awana, junior high book club, a youth pastor conference (tomorrow- blech), Ben's Tiger Encounter (next weekend, thank you Lisa), meeting with my mentor, catering a luncheon for 140, hunting down Sunday school volunteers, writing curriculum, teaching Sunday's, and dealing with ministry pop-ups I'm tuckered.

The pumpkin mania that normally descends upon me every year has passed me by this autumn. I'd mourn, but I'm content to pass the torch and let others worry about fall festivities. Besides, what little energy I have left is going into making a blueberry scented Halloween costume and a giant batch of caramel corn.

In the hopes that you all have fun and frolicking pumpkin carving parties planned I offer up my faithful pumpkin sausage pasta recipe, proudly served every year at the Palooza.

Enjoy!


Tagging:
Angeleen
Kathie
Kristen
Li
Re
and Doctor (I want to know the cow story)