So let's go on with the shoooooow...

Just picture Ethel Merman singing that title, and you'll get the idea.

It seems I am awash in awards again. Both Jo Beaufoix and Rotten Correspondent have seen fit to give me awards.

I have to say, it would be nice to give them awards occasionally, and since we know all the same people, it also makes it tough to pass these awards along sometimes. But here we go!


From Jo, I got this:






And as she says on her blog, "Excellent, dude!" I'm not bodacious, my blog is. I'm going to put it on my resume. For those of you who have forgotten your 80's slang, Merriam-Webster has this to say:

Main entry: bodacious

Pronunciation: bO-'dA-sh&s
Function: adjective
Etymology: probably blend of bold and audacious
1 Southern & Midland : OUTRIGHT, UNMISTAKABLE
2 : REMARKABLE, NOTEWORTHY
3 : SEXY, VOLUPTUOUS - bo·da·cious·ly adverb



So, my blog is sexy, and I can live with that.

I'm giving it to (where's an embedded drum roll audio clip when you need one?):

Bellevelma at Running with Books. She's a runner and she likes books, too. She must be bodacious, and her blog surely is.

I've also decided to give one of these to Willowtree. Not because he needs the ego boost (he really doesn't), but because I'm on a quest to see how many of these things he can squeeze in his sidebar. He's got an interesting recipe for baked beans over there today.


Rotten Correspondent gave me this:




I'm calling it the Splat award, because that's what it looks like. But it's actually for blogging that "hits the mark".

I'm giving it to Dumdad at The Other Side of Paris. He's got a series going on his early days in Fleet Street, and I love reading those posts. That, and he's wonderfully funny and plays a mean game of ping-pong (table tennis, depending on where you're from). So, Dumdad, that one's for you.


Today, we are off to the child psychologist for testing, but I'm feeling much more relaxed about it now. Had a run in with the school psychologist last week, and we exchanged some words. The best part about her visit to the school, though, was that my child was a perfect angel the whole day. TFYO sat still for the entire forty-five minutes of circle time, raised her hands to answer questions, quietly helped her classmates complete their projects after finishing her own and played nicely on the playground with all of her peers. The only way the day could have been better is if she'd had a giant middle finger sticking out of her head and aimed at the school psychologist who is so hell bent on putting my child in a "special ed" class. I know that's petty, but she was really putting the pressure on my to let her do an evaluation. She was incredibly unhappy when I told her we were having an independent evaluation done. Both me and TFYO's teacher, Mrs. P, are on the same page with this. TFYO wold likely wither and die without being mainstreamed. Mrs. P doesn't like the school psychologist, either, which tells me something.