To Whom It May Concern

Hello again. I've been out of town visiting my mother in Dayton, Ohio. In my absence, I haven't checked the old condiment kitchen regularly, but now that I've gotten around to it, I see that Utenzi has provided the fodder for my next post. Thank you! So here I am, finally, with my participation. (Better late than never, right?)

A. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning.

B. Each player list 6 facts/habits/secrets about themselves.

C. At the end of the post, the player then tags people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

My 6 facts/habits/secrets:

Fact 1: I had a let's say, "quirky," condition as a child where I would consistently faint at random. I say quirky because I had a lot of tests done and the doctors were unable to produce any reasons. As I grew older, about when I was in middle school, the fainting stopped.

Fact 2: I easily get stuck in rut. For example, why the hell am still living in Lincoln, NE. I mean I do love my friends here, but my job is so-so, my house is so-so, my car is, OK wait, I do love my late 90s luxury vehicle, but everything just seems so-so, ho-hum in Lincoln. I think my biggest complaint would be the harsh extreme of the seasons. OK I know I just riled up anyone from Minnesota or the Dakotas but I'm not as hardy as you all. I need climate control or Hawaii. Or New Mexico.

Secret 1: Speaking of New Mexico, I've never been there but I think it might be the perfect place for me. I don't even know that much about it but I've always felt a pull there.

Secret 2: My life is an open book so I'm really going to have to dig around for this one. OK, got it. I cheated my way through high school chemistry. I got a B and I didn't deserve it. Sorry Mr. Schoun. My mind doesn't think in compounds and I didn't want to completely obliterate my GPA because of it.

Habit 1: I like to pop zits. They don't even have to be mine. I'm know gross, huh?

Habit 2: Probably this is equally gross. I'm scab-picking junkie. I can't leave them alone. Relax, I do refrain from picking other people's scabs, that would be really gross and awkward. I love them when they are just almost healed over and you can lift off the scab and see the fresh pinkish white skin underneath. Unfortunately, I can rarely wait till this stage. There so irresistible.

So, on my tag list:

Ceri

Daniel

Voth

Bryant

Exiled in Guyville

Angela

Hank Hates Baths

But off the record, he loves them. I think he keeps up the pretense of hating our bathing rituals for Slade's benefit because Slade truly does hate baths (as any self-respecting dog should?).

This morning I rattled the treat jar to summon Slade, who was napping upstairs. After treats, I click on Slade's leash, which immediately triggers wagging tails and howling. I smile and pat Slade on the head; he still thinks he's going for walk as I turn him around and head for the bathroom. He throws on the breaks when he hears the running water that I've adjusted ahead of time to a barely warm temperature, confirmed with a dip of my elbow. I wrangle Slade into the bathroom and he is quaking, humiliated through out the entire sudds-ing and rinsing process. Once we're finished, I towel him down and release him to run around crazily about the living room.

Hank is already attuned to what is going on in the bathroom, and he lingers just outside the bathroom door. I grab his collar, and he plants his weight in his "heels," pretending that he's not going anywhere. This lasts for a second or two and then he gingerly, almost eagerly, steps into the bath. Once I start rubbing his ears and massaging his shoulders, it's all over. He's leaning into the gentle pressure of my fingertips, closing his eyes in relaxation as if he is spending the morning at a top-notch day spa. "Calgon, take me away."