In the web~

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to . . .blog. But what a beautiful web it is.

My reason for starting a blog can be found here: Who me? Blog?

Now I see there is another benefit to blogging I hadn't realized-- getting to meet people through the interconnectedness of the cyber world. I don't know how some of these nice people stumbled across my humble blog, but I'm glad they did. I followed their links back to them, and through them to others.
Not everybody finds blogs worth the time either to write or read. Personally I enjoy both. I'm discriminating; don't get me wrong. There are blogs I won't return to, just as there are books I won't finish. But there are some that have become favorites of mine, places I check at the end of a day.

Now I've been tagged. Thanks, Leslie.

Good thing I didn't write a blog post about hating to get those pass this on to six people in the next five minutes, or you will have bad luck for the rest of your life emails. I never play that game. And I have great luck. See: Friday the 13th~

But this game of tag is different. I will play.

Rules first:
Post these rules before starting. 2. Write a blog entry listing eight random facts about yourself. 3. Then choose eight more people to tag, and list their names and urls. 5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment on their blog telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog for directions.

1. My first name is Lillian, not Ruth. I was named after my paternal grandmother, but my parents wanted to call me Ruth. Why didn't they just make Ruth my first name? Because they thought it sounded better in this order. It has been a pain in the neck from the time I got my license and the man at the Registry of Motor Vehicles said he didn't care what name I went by, legally I was Lillian, and unless I wanted to go to court, and pay . . . blah, blah, blah. Yes, sir! (Jerk!)

2. I have a scar on my knee from the time my younger brother accidentally stabbed me with a knife we were playing with. We were on our first family camping vacation in the wilderness of New Hampshire My parents somehow found a country doctor to stitch me up, I had to wait a long time for him to deliver a baby before he got to my knee.

3. I worked at a local pharmacy in high school--my senior year-- and stole condoms-- from the supply room. This was before the day condoms were in school restrooms, before the fear of AIDs, before the "pill." Or before I would have dared get a prescription for the pill. My youngest son is now older than I was then.

4. Like Leslie, and Greta Garbo, I've often said, "I vant to be alone." I love people; enjoy getting together to talk and laugh, but to "recharge my batteries, I need to be alone. I go off-- me, myself and I, and of course the camera-- and wander for hours, snapping pictures, thinking, wondering, and writing in my head. I'm never bored doing this.

5. Another Leslie commonality-- My oldest son has schizoaffective disorder; I was told it could manifest as bipolar disorder some day. It is still so little understood, this "mental Illness," which in fact is physical. Mental illness is still the butt of jokes, although I no longer laugh. My son self-medicated with crack, earning himself a dual diagnosis: mentally ill/drug addicted. Writing about it helps. Read "Paranoia"

Eight things is a lot!

6. I put off doing things until the last minute because I work better under a little time pressure. And I don't stick to things I start. Like golf. I started golfing in midlife for something new to do. Okay. Been there done that. Anyone want to buy a nice set of lady's clubs? I'd rather wander alone with my camera.

7. I don't really plan things either. I just let things unfold for the most part. I plan in my head in broad strokes, but mostly I go with the flow. I've been very lucky where I've ended up for the most part. I wonder if I could have done better if I'd been more of a planner and a controller, like my daughter-- and husband.

I'm running dry. You're probably snoring now anyway. Hello? Is anyone here?

8. I love cats. I have said I will never live without a cat. So far, I never have. My sweet Becky is snoring on the floor beside me now. How can you not love a cat?

I'm tagging eight more. I leave it to them to choose to play tag or not.
Gary Riding Lessons
Bob A Writer's Haven
Dawn Observations
Heather 20 Going on Spinster With Cats
Jen Long Story Longer
Ann Creative Journaling
Mridu Mridu Khullar
Bill Blog From the Future Past