"Great, now more people will read about me," was my husband Dan's response.
When Dan looked up from his phone to find me running around the living room sofa, he suggested we go for a jog around the neighborhood.
He regretted that decision when I shouted down the street, "Woo hoo! Go pick up the latest Boise Weekly! Third place, best local blogger! That's me!"
"I should write edgier," I said to Dan as we rounded a corner. "Maybe I should swear more, you know, be more like I am at home."
I continued to chatter on nonsensically throughout our run. (It's what I do when I'm excited . . . and nervous, happy, frustrated. Actually, it's pretty much how I handle most situations.)
"Don't make eye contact!" I said, punching Dan in the arm as we ran by our Tea Party neighbors whose bumper stickers on their SUV read, "Silence is Consent" and "Yes! Yes! Yes! For Education."
On the other end of the spectrum: "Yes, more liberals in our neighborhood!" I yelled as we ran by a car with a bunch of tree-hugging bumper stickers.
"They're from California," Dan said, pointing to the license plate.
I ignored him.
"Conversations kill . . ." I sang to Dan. (It was playing on my iPod and seemed appropriate at the time.)
Dan regarded me in silence as I muddled through the lyrics of the chorus and then nodded his head, "Yeah . . . "
And that crazy, muddled display of strangeness, my faithful readers, is meant to illustrate how excited and honored I was to win third best local blogger in Boise Weekly's "The Best of Boise." Just think, you technically have just read an "award-winning" blog.
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