1. Crap! I've been tagged by Kelly. I have to come up with ten things about myself, starting with the letter "C", so I burned one by using Crap!
2. Committed. Either should be or am, married 15 years to Captain Video, and lovin' (mostly) every minute of it. (Two Loverboy references in one week? Isn't that one of the signs of the Apocalypse?)
3. Children. Things 1-4, Three daughters, one spoiled son. All those little mamas. Poor kid.
4. Countrified. Live in this part of the world for this long, and that's what you become.
5. Character. As in "Lack of..." or "She's quite a..."
6. Creative. At least I hope so. I teach community ed workshops in the performing arts, hopefully I bring something to the table.
7. Chanteuse. A hifalutin' word that means I am a singer, and I've been told I don't suck at it, either. It does make me think I need to find a slinky dress and a smoky piano bar to sing in, though.
8. Contests. Of the talent sort, where I do the aforementioned singing, and usually pay a few bills with the returns. Alas, my kids are learning this bad habit from me.
9. Cold. Hate it. That's why I live in Minnesota. Go figure.
10. Crazed. Obvious: school's out, kids are home all day, so are the neighbors' kids.
Yay, I made it! In celebration, I will tag John over at Daynotes on a Budget. I will refrain from sticking him with "Q" or "X" (I had a hard enough time with "C") and assign him the letter R. Go, man, go.
Today's rant is brought to you by our fine creditors who outsource phonebank jobs to people in India who cannot speak English. I'm sure they are fine, intelligent people, and some of them even have a relatively firm grasp of the language; however, when their speech is so heavily accented that I cannot even discern that they are horribly mispronouncing my (or my husband's) name, it is obvious to me that an English-speaking switchboard is not in their skill set. Now couple this with a computer dialing system that leaves me shouting "Hello!" into the phone multiple times before it even recognizes that I have answered the phone, and you get one irate mama when rung at 8:30 in the morning. At least those poor people on the other end of the phone are learning some more creative language to add to their vocabulary. I'll now hop off my soapbox, and go take a nap.